Colours in Your Eyes
by Batsutousai
Summary: Everyone is born with the ability to only see the colour of their soulmate's eyes. Only upon touching their soulmate, can people see the rest of the world's colours. Edward Elric will do whatever it takes to get his brother's body back and ensure he can have his happily ever after with his soulmate, even if it means never finding his own soulmate. [FMA Big Bang piece]
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** _Colours in Your Eyes_  
 **Fandom:** _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ /manga  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** Mature  
 **Pairings:** Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, May Chang/Alphonse Elric, Lan Fan/Ling Yao, Paninya/Winry Rockbell, Gracia Hughes/Maes Hughes  
 **Warnings:** Ed's potty mouth, soulmate AU, Xing politics, mentions of homophobia, cultural differences, canon character death (you know which one), age gaps, why are these boys such idiots?  
 **Summary:** Everyone is born with the ability to only see the colour of their soulmate's eyes. Only upon touching their soulmate, can people see the rest of the world's colours.  
Edward Elric will do whatever it takes to get his brother's body back and ensure he can have his happily ever after with his soulmate, even if it means never finding his own soulmate.

 **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Arakawa Hiromu and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Also, the opinions of certain main characters in regards to some cultural practises in no way reflect the author's own opinions.  
All direct quotes from the source material are taken from the Viz translation of the manga. The only thing borrowed from _Brotherhood_ is that everyone was transferred to hospital, rather than resting in tents set up on the parade grounds, after the final battle. ( &, you know, Roy didn't get his eye-fix right off. He needs to suffer a little, let's be honest. XD)

 **A/N:** I originally had something else planned for the Big Bang, not a soulmate AU, but I was cooling my heels for a few hours and went looking for soulmate ideas, because I kinda wanted to write one, eventually. Found one on a list on silentpeaches' tumblr about seeing in your soulmate's eye colour and it just...sparked a dozen ideas. Was upset later and needed to write something, and this is what ended up being first choice.  
I honestly wasn't certain, for a while, that it would be long enough for the Big Bang, and then it exploded and I have no regrets.

EdRoy is the main ship, and they're the only PoV characters, but the other ships all play their own parts in the plot, especially the AlMay.

So, I went snooping through the manga, just to check, and Roy grabbing Ed's shirt-front when they first meet is the closest they get to touching, skin-to-skin. Roy wears gloves a lot, and so does Ed. And Ed's clearly right-handed, so he takes things with his right hand. Which proved to be _terrible_ fic fodder. (Damn these boys.)

My fantastic artists are eirelis and VioVayo! Once they've posted their pieces, I'll link them in the text and put a link to them at the notes at the bottom of the chapter each pic corresponds with. They'll also be linked in the masterpost on tumblr, once that goes up. (FFN, once the masterpost is up, I'll put a link in my bio, so you can find the art through that.)

Last, but never least, a thousand thanks to my betas, the lovely Hangebokhan and fantastic Ciesste, who spotted the stupidest of my errors and were weirdly polite about it. ;) Thanks again, luvs. (Any further errors are 100% my own fault, because I always go back through before posting and tweak a couple things.)

There are three parts to this piece, and I'll be posting every other day. For your planning purposes.

You can also read this at Archive of Our Own, tumblr, or LiveJournal.

* * *

-Chapter 1-

* * *

When Roy was four and still feeling the ache where his parents should have been, he tugged on his aunt's skirt, pointed at a soldier across the street, and asked, "Whasat colour?"

Auntie Chris had glanced down at him, followed his finger to the soldier, then looked back down at him. "His uniform? It's blue."

Roy had frowned and tilted his head, looking at the man who was sketched out in shades of grey, save for the brilliant spot of colour hanging down from his shoulder. "No, the other. The dangle." And he motioned to his shoulder to show what part he meant.

Auntie Chris had shot him a narrow-eyed look. "The braiding? It's gold."

"Gold," Roy repeated, and stared at the soldier until he was out of view.

By the time he'd turned six, he knew what it meant that he could see gold, but not any shades of brown: His soulmate's eyes were that colour.

Some of his aunt's friends laughed over it where they thought he wouldn't hear, joking about how no one had _gold_ eyes. Others would say he was lucky that he'd be able to find the woman so easily, as improbable a colour as it was.

Auntie Chris never said anything, just shushed them when she thought he might be around, and got that little crease between her eyebrows that she always got while she was working on papers in her office.

Roy decided his aunt had the right of it, and kept the topic to himself from then on, even if he _did_ always turn to look when that perfectly impossible colour caught his eyes.

-0-

Ed found out about soulmates – and the colour of their eyes being the only ones you saw until you met – when Winry asked them about it, not long after Mum died.

"I see brown," she'd told them, knocking a fist against the tree they were sitting under. "Always have."

Ed shrugged. "Just greys and black and white, for me," he admitted, because it was true.

"Me, too," Al admitted quietly, slumping a bit, like he thought that would get him in trouble.

Ed scoffed and reached over to shove his brother. "See, we're the same, then."

"But, Brother, what if we're...broken?" Al asked.

Ed scoffed again, but it was Winry who promised, "Granny says some people have black or grey eyes, so it's probably just that. You just gotta shake everyone's hand you meet, and when everything's in colour, you know you've found them."

"Sounds stupid," Ed muttered, even as Al perked up a bit.

"Really?"

"Really really," Winry promised. "Granny'll tell you."

Al jumped to his feet, so excited. "Come on, Brother! I wanna know more! I wanna see colours, too!"

Ed huffed a bit, didn't really get why seeing colours was so important to his brother, but got to his feet and followed him and Winry back to her place all the same.

When Al had finished asking all his questions – the only one Ed had been even vaguely interested in was what colour their eyes were; Winry's were blue, and his and Al's were gold, whatever those colours looked like – and had run off with Winry to plot out how to shake everyone in the world's hand, Ed turned to Granny and asked, "What if you're broken?"

Granny took a drag of her pipe, expression thoughtful. "Broken," she repeated, breathing out smoke, and Ed waved it away absently. "Everyone has a soulmate, but it is possible for one of them to die before they can meet, or to just never meet at all. Plenty of people marry people who aren't their soulmates."

Ed wrinkled his nose at the mention of marriage. "So you don't _need_ a soulmate?"

"You have one, but you don't need to _meet_ them," Granny corrected.

"Cool," Ed decided, because he hated being tied down by rules, then wandered off to find a book to read until Al and Winry were done being dumb.

-0-

One cold night in Ishval, when the fires were low and the gunshots had mostly stopped for the night, Maes nudged him and asked, "Do you see colours?"

Roy shot him a tired look, tried to ignore the sound of his former master's daughter shifting on the other side of the fire they'd all huddled around against the chill. "That's a stupid question," he muttered.

"Is it?" Maes returned, undeterred, and Roy realised this was probably just one of those topics his friend popped out with when he needed to think of anything _but_ the bloodied sand around them. "I never told you, but I always saw green. And then I met Gracia, shook her hand, and now I see _everything_." He brought his own hands up, the golden light of the fire shading them. And Roy couldn't begin to guess what he saw in the shades of grey that still filled his own vision.

"Blue," Riza said from across the fire, shifting again, like she was trying to find a more comfortable position. (Roy wished her much luck; the sand was unforgiving to intruders.) "It wasn't a common colour in my hometown, but I guess it's easier to find in the rest of Amestris."

"Yeah," Maes agreed, dropping his hands back into his lap. "You see a lot of blue eyes, you stay in Central long enough."

And then they both looked at him, expectant, and Roy sighed.

"No colours at all?" Maes guessed, putting on a smile that was a little crooked. "Would serve you right, black as your eyes are."

Roy shook his head, barely resisted the urge to sigh again, and pushed his coat aside to reveal the hidden gold of his rank markings, tapping it as he said, "Gold."

"Brown?" Maes guessed, frowning a bit.

Roy shrugged, didn't really want to get into the truth of that mess. "Maybe."

"No," Riza insisted, completely ruining Roy's attempt to shrug off the oddity of his colour. "I have a few friends who saw brown, and they couldn't see that shade." She shifted again, as Roy and Maes both looked across at her, and her voice took on a slightly defensive tone as she explained, "There wasn't a lot else to do, where I grew up, but test the limits of our colours."

Maes smiled at her, edged in something teasing. "It's fine, Cadet, we all know women car–"

"Stop," Roy interrupted, before Riza could remind all of them what an excellent shot she was. "You don't have to remind me how improbable my soulmate existing is."

Maes and Riza were both quiet for a long moment, the crackle of the fire filling the silence that had fallen between them.

And then Maes said, "Maybe your soulmate's a cat?"

Roy shoved himself to his feet and flatly offered, "I'm going to bed," even though he knew he wouldn't sleep that night, the memories of human beings dancing in his gold and grey flames still far too fresh in his mind's eye.

As he stepped into their tent, he spared a brief regret for those people who saw red; if Bradley had his way, there wouldn't be any of them left by the new year.

-0-

The last place Roy had expected to find gold eyes, was in a backwater little town like Resembool. Even more, to find them lifeless and hollow, worn by a broken boy sitting in a wheelchair – a boy he knew had performed what looked to have been _horrifying_ alchemy.

Roy was furious with fate, and he grabbed the front of the boy's shirt – taking care not to touch, because he wasn't sure which would be worse; finding out this _child_ was his soulmate, or finding out he _wasn't_ – and shouted at him. At whatever cruel being had designed this meeting.

It was for the best, he realised, once he'd calmed down a bit and was following the scowling old woman who'd first opened the door to what he assumed was the dining room table, that Riza was his companion, and not Maes, because she still hadn't found her other half, had no way of knowing the impossible colour of this boy's eyes.

He warred with himself for a long moment, because the military was no place for children, but this boy had already seen hell, and the chance to have his potential soulmate close to him, to keep an eye on him and try to keep him safe from himself...

Roy made the offer, gave as much carrot as he dared, and when he glanced again into those impossible eyes, he found them glowing like the gold of flames, so brilliant and _alive_ , and nothing at all like the haunting memory of Ishval. If for no other reason than that, he knew he'd made the right choice.

"Do you think those boys will come?" Riza asked in the cart on the way back to the train station.

"They'll come," Roy promised, looking back toward the vanishing house his potential soulmate was in.

"You're very confident," Riza said, and he could hear the scepticism in her voice. "Judging by the look in that boy's eyes, I'd say he's beyond help."

"You think so?" Roy asked, looking back at her with a smirk. "I saw eyes that were burning like _fire_."

Riza eyed him a bit strangely, like she was trying to parse that sentence, before shrugging and looking away. "As you say, sir," she said, her tone gone flat.

'I hope you know what you're doing,' she was really saying.

Roy resisted the urge to push aside his coat and look at the gold hiding beneath it; he hoped the same thing.

-0-

Ed knew, from Granny, that the touch between soulmates couldn't transfer through automail. Which didn't matter to him, and a part of him was actually kind of glad to have a barrier against that 'shaking the world's hand' plan that Al and Winry had cooked up ages ago. But Al...

Al still cared, still wanted to find that someone that was meant just for him. And Ed was afraid – honestly and truly _afraid_ – that the soulmate touch wouldn't work through the armour, just like it didn't work through automail. Which meant Al would never find his other half. He'd be alone forever, trapped in cold steel, and it was _all Ed's fault_.

He'd find a way to get Al's body – and his future – back, no matter what it took.

-0-

 _"Roy,"_ Maes said when he picked up, a world of meaning crammed into that single word.

Roy was thrown for a moment, until he remembered his last intelligence report placed the Elrics in Central. "Shit," he heard himself say, and winced at his slip.

 _"_ _ **Roy**_ _,"_ Maes stressed. _"His_ _ **eyes**_ _–"_

"Stop," Roy interrupted. "Think about what you're saying for a minute. His gender, his _age_."

 _"I have thought about it,"_ Maes retorted, and Roy finally took note of the lack of glee in his voice, which was usually present when his idiotic best friend brought up marriage prospects. _"Have you–?"_

"No," Roy returned flatly. "I don't want to know."

Maes was quiet for a long moment, before he quietly said, _"That's not just your choice."_

"Yes, it is," Roy said, and hung up the phone.

He stood there for a moment, staring at his phone and trying to imagine Maes' expression the first time he caught sight of Edward's eyes, and again when he realised who he was and his military connection to Roy.

As he turned away to return to the kitchen and what was left of his dinner, he wondered if Maes was going to ring Riza next. He didn't usually tattle on Roy to her, but this was an odd situation, so far beyond what any of them could have imagined all those years ago around a fire.

When Riza made no comment the next day, or any of the days after it, even when the Elrics had returned, Roy assumed Maes hadn't called her after all.

That, or she was keeping her own counsel on what could never be between Roy and the only gold-eyed person he'd ever met.

-0-

Most of the time, Roy could trust Edward and Alphonse's safety to their own strength and the informants he had following them, but when Maes told him about Scar, and Riza said the boys were out there, _alone_ –

Roy didn't have time to be embarrassed by his reaction until after, while Havoc and Riza helped with the Elrics, and Armstrong had left to direct the MPs, leaving Roy with just Maes.

Maes didn't say anything at first, just watched Roy for a long moment, while he resisted the urge to squirm – and when had Maes developed that power? This was his aunt's doing, he knew it – then looked back toward the brothers and murmured, "You still don't know."

Roy crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to keep his scowl from looking anything other than annoyed. "He's my subordinate; it's my job to keep him safe."

Maes frowned at him. "At the risk of your own life? If Hawkeye hadn't been there, Roy–"

"I would have done the same thing for you or her, so stop making this out to be more than it is," Roy shot back, tightening his arms.

If Maes had a response to that, he kept it to himself, and they filed back into the cars to return to Eastern Command in silence.

-0-

Even though he'd sworn almost four years ago to find a way to return his brother to his body so he could find his soulmate, the _concept_ wasn't really _real_ to Ed until Winry grabbed the arm of that obnoxious little thief in Rush Valley and they both froze, turning to each other with wide eyes.

"You're–" Winry started, her cheeks turning a slightly darker shade of grey.

The other girl snatched her arm away and cleared her throat. "I, uhm, hi." She glanced down at Ed's watch, then shoved that hand toward Winry, a clear attempt to return it. "I'm Paninya!"

Winry took Ed's watch and tossed it at him – he barely managed to catch it, still thrown by the suddenly and inexplicable mood change – then took Paninya's hand and said, "I'm Winry. I'm an automail mechanic."

"What the fuck, Winry!?" Ed demanded, shoving his returned watch away in his pocket.

"She's my soulmate!" Winry replied, sounding delighted.

"Why should–" Ed started before what she'd said registered, and he was left staring at the thief in disbelief.

"Oh," Al said, sounding about as thrown as Ed felt. And then, far more cheerfully, "That's awesome!"

"Right?" Winry agreed, before looking back at her...soulmate. "Can I see your legs? They look _really_ cool!"

"I–I guess?" Paninya agreed, before Ed realised he should probably warn her not to.

Which was pretty much why they ended up climbing a mountain, taking part in a birth, and leaving Winry behind to start an apprenticeship.

-0-

Staring down at Maes' grave, Roy couldn't feel much more than grief and self-disgust. He didn't need to ask anyone to know this had something to do with Edward, with Maes doing his damnedest to keep Edward safe, for _Roy_. If it wasn't for Edward potentially being Roy's soulmate, Maes would still be alive.

He wondered, a bit, why he couldn't dredge up the anger he knew he should have felt.

As Riza stepped up beside him, Roy almost asked if she knew, if Maes had told her about Edward. But he couldn't; he'd already lost one of his best friends for the sake of a boy who might well just be a red herring, no way he could chance another.

If he could have his way, no one would ever know Edward might be something more than his subordinate again.

-0-

Ed didn't know why – maybe it was because they were trapped fuck-knew-where, and he knew from the smell that the liquid they were trudging through was supposed to have colour, but all he saw were shades of grey topped by an unending blackness – but at some point in their long walk through the endless blood, he asked, "Do they have soulmates in Xing?"

Ling was quiet for a few steps, before allowing, "Yes. But it often doesn't work out."

Ed frowned at that and glanced over. "What do you mean?"

Ling shrugged, his expression tight. "Clan politics, usually; if you and your soulmate aren't in the same clan, or if you're in a position where you have to marry for the good of the clan, and not for yourself, you may find your soulmate, but it won't mean anything."

It took Ed a moment, but he did realise, "You–"

"Lan Fan's my soulmate," Ling admitted quietly, "but I'm a prince, the highest positioned person in my clan. I can't marry a bodyguard."

"That's–" Ed swallowed and shook his head, didn't really know what to say. As much as he didn't care about his own soulmate, the idea that someone he could maybe, sort of, almost call a friend, could never be with their soulmate, was just... "Shit. That's shit."

"Fate doesn't care about politics, and politics don't care about fate's designs," Ling offered, shrugging again. "It is what it is, and Lan Fan found her own way to remain by my side."

His expression, though, was still tight. Like, maybe, he cared a lot more than he was saying he did. Like, maybe, he had times when he raged at the unfairness of it all. Like, maybe, Lan Fan cutting off her own arm had hurt him so much more than he'd pretended it had.

Ed looked down at the sea of grey spreading out in front of him, tried not to think about how that must feel, knowing who your soulmate was, but unable to ever do more than look at them from afar.

"What about you?"

Ed shrugged. "I don't know. Don't really care, honestly; I've got way more important shit to worry about than who some bullshit idea like 'fate' thinks I should spend my life with."

"Getting your bodies back," Ling said.

Ed snorted and shook his head. "Getting _Al_ 's body back," he corrected. "You can't find your soulmate by touching them through metal." He wiggled automail fingers at Ling, and the idiot prince grimaced and looked away. Ed sighed and dropped his hand back to his side. "Al cares. I want him to be able to take someone's hand and see colours one day."

"I can appreciate that," Ling admitted, glancing back over at Ed. "I hope it works out."

"It _better_ , after all the shit he's gone through," Ed muttered, kicking a little too hard at the liquid they were walking through and grimacing when it sprayed out ahead of them.

Ling sighed. "Do you know what colour their eyes are?"

Ed shook his head. "Black or grey. Both of us."

"That's really common in Xing," Ling pointed out. "Black eyes are sort of a thing."

Ed shot him an unimpressed look. "Are you suggesting our soulmates are Xingan?"

Ling shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows. Once you get your bodies back, you're welcome to come back with me and try your luck."

Ed snorted. "Why the hell not," he decided. "There's not that much tying us to Amestris; I'm game."

Ling flashed him a bright, delighted smile, which only lasted a short moment before he glanced around at their surroundings again, and his shoulders slumped. "Assuming we can find a way out of here."

Ed clenched his jaw and stared ahead of them. They'd find a way home; he had to believe that. For Al, and for Lan Fan.

-0-

After his information gathering date with Madeline, Roy went home. It felt as cold and empty as his office, and he slumped back against the door he'd just closed and locked, debated going back out again, just to avoid the emptiness, the reminder that all of the people he trusted and depended on were out of action or stolen away by a hand he had no way to stop.

He shook his head to clear the grim thoughts and pushed himself away from the door, was a little surprised at the sound of coins jingling in his pocket; the change from dinner. He reached in to pull it out and stared down at the coins. Six hundred eighty cenz. Not a handful he'd usually look twice at, but there was a five hundred coin and two tens nestled together, like fate's reminder that he hadn't had _everyone_ stolen away from him. Instead, perhaps, he'd gained his most valuable ally of all: Edward stood behind him.

He dropped the extra one hundred sixty cenz in the coin jar he kept on the worktop, then took the rest of the coins upstairs to sit on his dresser, next to the picture of himself and Maes. He felt a little stupid for it – these coins hadn't come from Edward, they were just the promised amount – but it helped, a little, having that reminder sitting there.

He remembered gold eyes that had once been hollow lighting with fire as Roy laid out a promise of a future, and thought, maybe, that it didn't matter if Edward was his soulmate or not; they'd find ways to keep each other going anyway.

-0-

Roy had suffered months of silence, going between his empty home and his office – no longer empty, but filled with unfamiliar, untrustworthy faces – and back to his empty home with a heavy heart. He saw Riza in the mess some days, and sat with her once or twice a month, to pass updates and warnings in code, and he'd got word from Breda, Fuery, Falman, and Alphonse, knew they were all still alive, for the moment. But the one person he tried hardest not to worry about was, of course, the one who had gone completely silent. Heck, not even the madam's long reach could find a hint of Edward, and Roy tried not to look at the five hundred twenty cenz sitting so innocently on his dresser any more.

Finding the guards outside laboratory three knocked out cold was inexplicably uplifting, and bursting through the alchemically sealed wall to find Edward in a sprawl, shooting him a tired (and maybe a little pleased? Or was Roy projecting?) scowl was, well.

He fell back on familiar mocking remarks, to hopefully hide the rush of relief that'd gone through him, and the way everyone sort of ignored him reassured him he'd put them all off the scent.

That, or there were far bigger fish to fry, which he did, once Edward yelled at him. Didn't even really think about the fact that he was following the boy's orders, just snapped and burned them all, then made a smart remark to hide how unnerved he was at his own thoughtless obedience.

He was grateful for Envy's distraction, if only because he could finally focus on one of the few things that he could admit was driving him: Finding Maes' killer.

But, in the end, he couldn't do it. Edward and Riza and _Scar_ (of all people) banded together and stopped him. He wanted to be angry, as he turned and took the gun from Riza, but he just felt spent. Tired from all the energy he'd used against Envy, and maybe a little ashamed at what he'd fallen to, the burden he'd placed on Riza's shoulders.

And too, Edward... What must he think of him? Horror? Disgust? Perhaps it was for the best that Roy never intended to answer the question of whether or not the boy was _actually_ his soulmate.

And then...

"Envy," Edward said, his voice quiet and a little sad, "you're just jealous of us. Humans are supposed to be so much weaker than you homunculi, but no matter how often we get beaten down, become discouraged, lose our way, come close to falling, and even if we know that it's for superficial reasons, we keep fighting on. We find strength in each other. That's why...you're jealous of humans."

Roy couldn't look up, couldn't breathe past the weight on his chest. Was that–? Had that–?

There was no judgement for Envy, or any suggestion of disgust in his voice as Edward spoke. He was hardly dispassionate, just...sad. Aware.

Envy got free and killed himself, and Roy covered his eyes, couldn't quite keep from peeking up at Edward. He looked as tired as Roy felt, but there was no sign of the boy who had once raged against every minor wrong done against him, or had sat slumped in the rain, crying for the fate of a child he'd never had the power to change.

When had Edward grown up?

-0-

Losing his sight was the single most disconcerting thing that had ever happened to Roy, even more so than discovering gold eyes on a boy fourteen years his junior. You had no idea how much you relied on your sight until it was gone, and Roy had never hated black more than that moment.

Strangely, he realised as he was caught around the waist and arms by some sort of rope he couldn't see and yanked along the ground toward the end of the world, his single regret was that he wouldn't get to see Edward's gold eyes and hair one last time.

-0-

When Al opened his eyes, it felt rather like a part of Ed had slotted back into place, warmth blooming in his chest.

And then May had jumped forward and thrown herself at Al, shouting, "Mr Alphonse!"

Al's eyes, if possible, went even wider. " _May_ ," he breathed.

She pulled away, rubbing at the tears streaming from her closed eyes, and Al cleared his throat before quietly offering, "I'm sorry. I know I put you through a lot."

May glanced up at him, then, opening her mouth to respond, before it fell open the rest of the way in surprise, and a shading of grey filled in her cheeks.

Ed looked back at Al, spotted the same shading on his cheeks, remembered Winry and Paninya meeting for the first time, and couldn't quite stop a victorious laugh, because he'd _done it_. He'd got Al his body back, and the first thing his little brother had done, was find his soulmate. It was perfect and wonderful and absolutely worth never being able to do alchemy again, and Ed leant forward and caught both of them around the shoulders, hugging them as hard as he could.

May let out a startled squeak, but Al just gave an embarrassed laugh and complained, " _Brother_."

"Congratulations," Ed whispered to both of them, before letting go and stepping back to let others greet Al, even their (still kinda useless) father.

If anyone else realised what had happened, they didn't mention it, and Al's clear embarrassment – Ed wondered if he'd ever get over the novelty of his brother having _facial expressions_ – died down, leaving him smiling wide and happy as he greeted people. May, though, had shuffled after Ed, out of the way, and ducked her head forward, hiding behind her bangs.

Ed sighed and crouched down next to her, dropping a hand to the top of her head. "Hey."

She looked up at him, and there was still a dusting of grey across her cheeks and tears in her eyes, but her expression looked more heart-broken than happy, and something caught in Ed's throat. He cleared it as best he could and whispered, "May, what's wrong?"

(And he did like her okay, after everything, had learnt to tolerate her, but it was a little surprising how much more he cared when it turned out that she was Al's other half. He actually hadn't expected how he felt about whoever it turned out to be to change so much, so rapidly. But, then, he wanted Al happy, and fuck knew he was always complaining about how rude Ed was to everyone.)

May made an ineffectual swipe at her eyes, gave a quiet sniff, and whispered, "I'm the princess of Chang."

Something was sinking in Ed's chest, because he still remembered, all too well, Ling and Lan Fan's sorrows; soulmates that couldn't marry because of an obligation to their clan. And now May and Al were in the same boat.

He clenched his jaw against a furious snarl, because _this wasn't fair_. Fate couldn't do this to them, to _Al_. Not after everything else they'd gone through. Ed hadn't given up his alchemy just to watch his brother be forced to the sidelines while his soulmate got married to someone else.

"Hey, Chang girl," Ling interrupted, and Ed and May both looked up to watch as he and Lan Fan approached. Ling nodded to Ed as he crouched down next to them, then turned to May. "You sure are an idiot. You got caught up in another country's fight, and didn't even get a Philosopher's Stone for your troubles."

Ed scowled at his maybe, sorta friend, feeling protective of the princess.

And then Ling pulled out a glass vial filled with dark grey liquid, the same sort of vial as Dr Marcoh had kept his Stone in the first time Ed'd met him. "The throne belongs to the Yao clan, now," Ling stated flatly, and May's head ducked down, like she might start crying again.

But then Ling sighed and the corners of his mouth turned up just enough that Ed realised that he hadn't come over to be cruel. "But don't worry," he continued, and May looked up at him, liquid filling her eyes, "the Yao clan will take full responsibility for the safety of your clan."

May blinked, her eyes going wide as a few tears trailed down her cheeks, upset from their precarious position.

Ling shoved a thumb at himself and reminded them, "I accepted the homunculus Greed into my body, didn't I? Of course I'll accept the Chang clan, and all the other clans, too."

Which, inexplicably, made May start to cry again, her face screwed up like it was maybe a little painful.

"What's with that face?" Ling asked, while Ed just shook his head, because _girls_. "Don't worry, the people of Xing always keep their promises."

" _All_ the other clans?!" May burst out with, sudden enough that Ling sort of rocked back a bit and quickly stood, while Ed blinked a few times in surprise. "Now you're being greedy, Ling Yao!"

Ling grimaced and rubbed at the back of his head. "What can I say? I guess he rubbed off on me."

Ed rolled his eyes; he was pretty sure Greed had just exacerbated the issues Ling'd already had.

Then Ling leant forward and grabbed May around the middle, hefting her up, off the ground. "Come on, let's go," he ordered.

May started to snarl a complaint, but Ed stood and said, "Ling."

Ling looked over at him, his brows drawing together a bit, and May shut up.

"You need to let her say goodbye to Al."

Ling blinked, and then his shoulders slumped a bit, something that might have been sorrow shadowing his expression. "Yeah," he agreed quietly, before holding out a fist toward Ed. "Take care of yourself."

Ed reached out and knocked his fist against Ling's. "You, too," he agreed, before looking down at May and trying a smile. "See you, May."

She gave him a pathetic little failure at a wave, and Ling turned away with her, moving toward where Al was watching them with what looked painfully like heartbreak written across his face.

Ed turned to Lan Fan, realising she was still standing next to him. "As soon as Al's strong enough," he said, "we'll come to Xing. I promised Ling months ago we would."

She offered him a faint, tired smile, the first one he could remember seeing from her. "I'll remind him," she promised with a bow, "and keep an eye out."

Ed swallowed and, as she started to turn to follow Ling, said, "Stay strong, Lan Fan."

She frowned at him, obviously confused, then shook her head and agreed, "I will," before keeping on to rejoin Ling and May.

Ed walked back over to Al, once the Xingans had cleared out, and knelt next to him, gently ruffling his hair. "Let's get you to hospital, so you can get better fast and we can follow them."

Al twisted and threw his arms around Ed, catching him in a weak hug. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice catching a little.

Ed just hugged him back as tightly as he could and made a silent promise to himself that he _would_ find a way for Al and May to be together, no matter what he had to trade Ling to make it happen.

-0-

Someone knocked at the door – or the doorway? It sounded a little different from usual – and Riza called, "Edward?"

Roy started; Edward had come to see them?

"Hey, Lieutenant," said what was unmistakably Edward's voice. "Hey, Colonel Bastard."

Roy forced a smile on his face and deadpanned, "I'd say it's a pleasure to _see_ you, however..."

Edward let out a startled laugh, the sound so much freer than Roy could remember ever having heard before, and he spared a brief moment for sorrow that he would never know what Edward looked like when he wasn't bowing under the weight of his own mission.

"You realise that being okay with blind jokes isn't going to stop me from using them," Edward threatened.

Riza just sighed, and Roy knew exactly how she'd be shaking her head, and the way her mouth would be quivering at one side, trying valiantly not to smile.

It was odd, how many little ticks of hers and the rest of his team he hadn't even realised he'd noticed, until he had to play them in his head because he could no longer see them. (He didn't know any of Alphonse's, though, and he had a feeling Edward was already losing some of his, without his automail arm and his mission weighing him down; Roy tried not to regret that too much.)

"I'm not concerned," Roy said, aiming for an airy tone, and fairly certain he'd managed it. "I suspect you'll be around a lot less often now, _former_ Fullmetal Alchemist."

Edward grunted and clunked his way into the room. He must not have been wearing boots, as one footstep was noticeably louder than the other, but not as much as Roy would have expected if he'd been walking around barefoot; hospital sandals, most likely. "Yeah, actually, that's part of why I came. We're gonna be in Central for a while yet, waiting for Al to be strong enough to travel back to Resembool, but I figured I'd check and see if there was, I dunno, paperwork or some bullshit for my release from contract. Or whatever you call that."

"You're not far short–"

"You realise," Edward snarled, "that you can't duck what you can't _see_ , blind man."

That was very true, Roy realised with some trepidation, and Edward no longer had an automail fist to lessen the chance of skin-on-skin contact. He cleared his throat. "Right, apologies. You're _close enough_ ; I know what you meant. Unfortunately–" he held his hands out to either side, the bandaging just tight enough he was aware of it every time he flexed them "–I'm currently incapable of signing off on anything, for a number of reasons. I'll have Breda or Falman collect what you'll need from Command next time they go, if they can locate a copy, and ask that they bring them by for you to sign, then return them to Führer Grumman."

"Cool, thanks," Edward responded, sounding a little...awkward? "Uhm, so, are you staying in the military? I mean, you know–"

"The idea of a blind officer will very likely cause some debate," Roy agreed, forcing his voice to remain level, to not show how depressing this still was; would likely _always_ be, "but my name is in all the news broadcasts, so the Führer has agreed to work with me." He folded his hands in his lap and shrugged. "My first intention is to get Ishval returned to her people, and see to it that they have any help they require in rebuilding, which will only necessitate some limited paperwork and a guide, which the lieutenant has graciously offered to provide."

Edward let out a snort, the sound surprisingly fond. "Yeah, imagine that, the lieutenant being forced to babysit you. No offence, Hawkeye."

"None taken," Riza returned evenly.

Roy just sighed, resigned to the abuse. "In response to what you – unusually tactfully, for you – _didn't_ ask: I'm unlikely to ever make Führer, so you may as well consider your debt unpayable."

Edward made no sounds loud enough for Roy to pick up, no matter how hard he strained to listen, for a long moment, before scoffing. "Fuck you, bastard, you're not getting off the hook that fucking easily," he said, his voice flat. "You say you're gonna sort Ishval, then you sort Ishval, and I'll pay you back then."

Roy swallowed around a block in his throat, wasn't sure how to thank Edward for so readily adapting to their change in circumstances. "And after?" he heard himself asking, hated how small his voice sounded.

"You'll need another pet project, won't you? Start planning now, 'cause I'll bleed your useless arse for all you're worth if you take too long to decide."

Roy didn't need to see to know what smile was on Edward's face: Sharp and ruthless and every inch the boy who had joined the military and spat in the face of their every rule. And above the slash of his mouth, his eyes would be gleaming, brilliant gold.

He cleared his throat and did his best to look unimpressed. "Are you intending to be strung up for robbery?"

Edward laughed and moved again, uneven footsteps sounding him out, even if Roy couldn't quite tell where he was in the room – yet; he'd heard plenty of stories of other senses adapting to make up for the loss of one – before saying, a little too close for Roy's comfort, "Please, you'd never report me."

And then warm knuckles pressed gently against Roy's bicep. Roy stiffened, heart in his throat.

Edward was so utterly still for a moment, and Roy could imagine his expression, shock and then understanding dawning. He'd seen both over the years, only rarely together, and he regretted, a little, that he wasn't able to see the flow of emotions this time.

Edward let out a breath that shuddered and the warmth of his knuckles vanished as quickly as they'd appeared.

"So," Roy said quietly, needing to fill the silence, since there was nothing to fill his view, "now you know."

Edward's uneven footsteps sounded again, moving far faster than they had done, until they'd faded into the white noise of the hospital.

The room remained quiet as Roy closed his useless eyes and turned toward where he assumed there was a window, based on the way his legs had warmed that afternoon.

"Sir?" Riza asked at last.

Roy swallowed, couldn't bring himself to look at her as he said, "Did you know, Lieutenant, that Fullmetal's eyes are gold?"

"Oh," she breathed, didn't need it explained any further than that.

Roy was glad, wasn't certain he could have brought his mouth to form any further words. It would just figure that Edward would only undo all of his careful avoidance of contact when Roy could no longer enjoy the world of colours that had opened up for him.

Edward running had been expected, if Roy was being honest. He'd been the boy's commanding officer for three years, and Edward had just got free of him. He had his whole life ahead of him, had fully earned his freedom, but Roy was fourteen years his elder, and settled in a career that Edward had made perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with any more. And, too, while the antagonism between them had softened more recently, it was still there, and Roy couldn't see what sort of relationship they could form that _wouldn't_ end with one of them destroying the other.

Edward was better off running and staying well away. And if he kept that five hundred twenty cenz, well.

Roy expected it was only equivalent.

-0-

Colours, Ed quickly realised, were _extremely distracting_. Like, he'd never realised skin was anything other than shades of grey, before, or that the hospital pyjamas weren't a really pale shade of grey, or that his hair and Lieutenant Hawkeye's hair were slightly different shades of the same colour. (Well, Ed assumed it was the same colour. He understood shades in reference to grey, but all these new colours could have rules all their own.)

He understood, now, why Al had kept twisting to look at everything while they'd made their way to hospital, and why he seemed almost more interested in staring at his food, than in eating it.

He was halfway to the nearest nurse station – to request the book of colours that a nurse had given Al a couple days ago, when she'd realised he'd only just met his soulmate – when he stopped, a new thought coming to surface, momentarily pushing away the distraction of colours: Mustang would never see these colours.

His chest felt too tight, and Ed stumbled over to lean against the wall, torn between a rush of anger that Mustang had _clearly known_ , and regret for what he couldn't have.

Why hadn't he ever told Ed? Why keep it a secret for so many years? Why keep so careful a distance? (All those times Mustang had been careful about where to put his hand, had worn gloves that weren't his special ignition gloves, had smirked and stepped away from Ed's bare-knuckled punch to the face, or punched him first.)

And _how_ had he known? Were Ed and Al's eyes a rare colour? ( _Gold_ , he remembered Granny had said. Like the metal, he assumed, which meant they were probably the same colour. Not that Ed actually knew what that colour _was_.)

Huffing to himself a bit, Ed looked around for a public toilet and, upon spotting one down the hall, past the nurse's station he'd originally been heading for, he hurried down to it and stepped inside, making a beeline for the mirrors over the sink.

His eyes were exactly the same colour as his hair, a slightly darker – deeper? – shade from Hawkeye's hair. He already knew, in greyscale, that his skin was darker than Mustang or Hawkeye's, but it looked like it was the same...shade? Colour? As Hawkeye's, but not Mustang's. More of one colour than another.

He didn't have words for _any_ of this.

He pulled up his trouser leg and was relieved to find that his leg, at least, had remained the familiar steel-grey.

He sighed as he let go of the fabric and looked back up at the mirror, catching his own eyes and mouthing their colour, the only one he had a word for.

No, that wasn't _quite_ true. Winry had said that trees were brown, and he'd heard somewhere, once, that the sky was blue and grass was green.

There was a small courtyard in the middle of the hospital, and he made his way there, stopping to squint through the bright gleam of the sun toward the sky. If that was blue, then his hospital pyjamas must be a lighter shade of blue. Winry's eyes were blue, he recalled, and was a little surprised to find a smile twisting his mouth; he'd never expected to know what that meant.

(It rolled through him again, the reminder that Mustang didn't have this. That he would never have any colours but gold.)

Ed shook his head, irritated; what the fuck did he care for Mustang's silence? He'd had ample opportunity to touch Ed and see whatever colours he'd wanted. It wasn't Ed's fucking fault that the bastard had squandered that.

He looked down, toward the grass, and marked that in his mind as green, then toward the trunk of a nearby tree, marking that as brown. (The colour of Paninya's eyes.)

He wandered a bit, noting different shades of green in the grass and the leaves of the trees. Too, the stalks and leaves of flowers were green, while the blossoms were so many more colours than Ed had words for. There were a couple that looked like shades of gold, and some that he thought were maybe darker shades of blue?

He wondered what red looked like. He'd picked it for his coat because it was the colour most often associated with the Philosopher's Stone in books. It was also, he recalled, the colour of blood, and he tried not to feel too ashamed as he looked around for something sharp to prick his finger with.

"Are you okay?" a gentle, female voice asked from behind him.

Ed jumped and whirled to face her, felt his hands automatically coming up into a defensive position, despite the right one being far too weak to be any real use, and the left being injured badly enough to make him wince at the sudden movement.

She blinked at him, her eyes a new shade of blue, her hair almost the same shade of brown as the trees, and her skin a little darker than his own. And then she took a polite step back, offering him a disarming smile, and asked again, "Are you okay?"

Ed swallowed and forced his arms back to his side. "Y-yeah, sorry. Just a little, uhm, jumpy. I guess."

"An unsurprisingly common occurrence in patients in military hospitals," she offered, her tone suggesting she half expected him to laugh at that.

Ed managed a tired chuckle, because she had a point, only to be distracted when a bird jumped out of one of the trees and took flight, its belly a similar colour to some of the flowers, one he didn't have a word for. "What's red?" he heard himself asked, and then flushed when he realised what he'd said.

The nurse just shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't know," she admitted.

Ed swallowed. "I-I'm sorry. I guess I just–"

Assumed. Like he'd once assumed that Mustang and the rest of the office all saw colours. Like he assumed anyone above twenty could see colours, even though he knew plenty of people never met their soulmate. (The statistics were something like three in five people would meet their soulmate before they died. He'd looked it up once, just to torment Winry. It hadn't seemed so funny after Al'd been trapped in armour, though.)

"It's fine," the nurse promised, even though it really kind of _wasn't_. "We have books inside that show which colours are which, if you wanted to take one back to your soulmate?"

Ed couldn't help the scowl that twisted his expression, or the way his shoulders tensed. There was still a little ball of sorrow in his chest, a reminder that a book wouldn't do Mustang any good, anyway, but mostly he had just settled into feeling angry at what he'd never been told. "He can get his own fucking book," he snarled.

"Oh dear," the nurse murmured, folding her hands together politely. "A rival, is it?"

Ed crossed his arms tight over his chest, tried not to wince when his wounds pulled. "No. Just a jerk. He knew and never said anything for _years_. The bastard."

"Ah." She nodded like she understood. "Do you want to look at the book by yourself, then? Find out what red is?"

Ed sighed and nodded, so she led the way back inside and to a little break room in a back hallway that Ed had never noticed before, despite the number of times he'd been trapped in that very hospital because he'd done something stupid while in Central.

"Help yourself to coffee or water," she suggested with a wink, "while I go get a copy of the book."

Ed decided she was actually pretty okay, as he went and got some water. (It was too late in the day for him to have coffee, especially since it had been over a week since his last cup; he'd never get to sleep if he had caffeine.)

When the nurse got back, she smiled in approval at his choice of beverage, then passed him the book before going to get something to drink herself.

The book in question was actually fairly basic, with a limited vocabulary and pictures that took up most of the page. Ed assumed it had been done that way to help people of all ages, because there _had_ been stories of very young children having found their soulmate among their playmates, and asking after colours as soon as they had sufficient language for it. (Another fact he'd come across when he'd gone looking for things to torment Winry with when she wouldn't stop bringing the topic up.)

It turned out that some of the flowers he'd seen had been red, while others had been pink – which looked to be a very pale shade of red – some had been purple, and all of the ones he'd thought were shades of gold, were actually either yellow or orange.

"What about gold?" he asked the book, irritated.

"Gold?" the nurse asked, and Ed looked up, startled; he'd thought she'd left. "That's a metal, isn't it?"

Ed shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, but it's also a colour. Or, at least, that's the colour Granny said my eyes are."

The nurse blinked a few times, then tilted her head to one side. "Really? I've never heard of gold eyes before. Are you sure they're not brown?"

Ed shook his head. "My best friend could see brown, but my eyes were grey to her." He looked back down at the book, frowning. "What colours are eyes?"

The nurse let out a cough that sounded a little amused, and Ed shot her a scowl. "I'm sorry," she offered. "I've been told that brown and black are the most common eye colours in Amestris, followed by blue and grey, and then green. Ishvalans all have red eyes, of course, and there's a couple of towns in the north-east where brown-red eyes are common. But I've never heard of gold eyes."

Brown-red sounded like Hawkeye's eyes, Ed thought, based on his new vocabulary, but no gold eyes?

Well, at least that explained why Mustang had seemed aware that Ed was his soulmate.

Why hadn't he ever said anything?

Ed sighed and rubbed at his face. He'd never made any secret of his disinterest in finding his soulmate, so maybe that was it. Or Mustang hadn't wanted to be tied to a kid fourteen years his younger; with his aspirations, such a relationship would have been as likely to cause ruin as going head-to-head with Bradley.

No, if Ed was honest, he'd never have been able to stomach Mustang as his soulmate before he'd heard about Ishval and the bastard's aspirations, could _still_ barely stand it. And, now, with his blindness and trying to adapt to everything he'd lost, the last thing Mustang needed was Ed getting in his way. Especially since Ed was trying to adapt to his _own_ loss.

Maybe Mustang had been right never to tell him; he'd only ever caused trouble for the bastard, leaving destruction in his wake and laughing when he'd seen all the additional paperwork his misdeeds had created. He wouldn't want himself as a soulmate, either.

Ed straightened and slid the book back across the table to the nurse as he stood. "Thank you, for this."

She eyed him a bit uncertainly. "Are you okay?" she asked, the same thing she'd first said to him out in the courtyard.

Ed looked down at his hands, staring at the unfamiliar colours – tan, with shades of yellow and orange, like Mustang's skin, but darker – and shrugged. "I will be," he decided, because he _would_. He'd worry about Al, first, and getting used to not having alchemy. And maybe, once they'd managed to sort out Al and May so they could be together like they deserved, he'd think about what to do about Mustang.

-0-

Colours, as it turned out, were more distracting than useful.

"You're twitching again," Riza informed him quietly, not looking up from her paperwork. He'd never realised before that her hair was blonde, the same as Edward's, but a far lighter shade. Different enough that it hadn't registered as gold to his cursed sight.

"You're lucky you haven't found your soulmate yet, Captain," Roy returned flatly, trying not to look out the train window. "Colour blindness is a blessing."

Riza sighed and moved the paper she'd just signed into her 'done' pile. "I assume, sir, that spending time with your soulmate in the aftermath would mitigate the difficulty of adaptation some." Then she looked up, her stare flat and utterly unimpressed, as it had been since the celebration over his returned sight had been disbanded. "Führer Grumman _did_ grant you another two months of recuperation."

"I don't need recuperation," Roy muttered, and made the mistake of looking out the window again. Green. Green fields and trees and bushes and–

It didn't matter that he'd never known the exact shade of Maes' eyes, he knew they'd been green; he could never have anticipated how much a single colour could _hurt_.

He cleared his throat and forced his gaze back toward her. "I need to be doing work."

"What you _need_ is to speak with your soulmate," she returned, unmoved.

Roy barely managed to keep his expression from twisting with a scowl. "He has no interest in speaking to me," he said, keeping his tone bland. "Or have you forgotten who ran out?"

"Perhaps if you hadn't _hidden your suspicions from him_ –" Riza pointed out, a hint of irritation in her voice.

Roy looked toward the window again as she spoke, only to have to bite back a curse when he found they were passing a field of golden-yellow flowers, green marking gaps between the blossoms.

Fate was _mocking_ him, now.

"That," he interrupted, and Riza fell silent at his tone, "is _enough_ , Captain."

Riza didn't speak for a moment, and then she replied, "I've overstepped, sir. I apologise." Distant. Cold.

Roy closed his eyes, missing Maes more now than ever; he'd never have let Roy tell him to shut up. But Riza wasn't Maes, could never be, and Roy knew he was only regretting that, now, because he knew she was right. He should have spoken to Edward before they'd left. But, just like how he'd refused to touch the boy and know for certain whether or not they were soulmates – equally afraid for both options – he hadn't been able to face Edward's reaction to knowing. Would he hate Roy? Tell him to get out? Or would he want Roy to stay? Both options were terrifying, would wreck his world either way, so he'd simply avoided finding out completely.

He was a coward.

He wrapped his coat a little tighter over his uniform and shifted until he could rest his head against the outer train wall. "I'm getting some sleep," he announced, in case she'd gone back to her paperwork.

"Pleasant dreams, sir," Riza replied blandly, and a piece of paper let out a quiet crinkling sound as she moved it.

Roy was just starting to drift off, when she quietly added, "You're not the only one you're hurting any more."

 _Perhaps,_ Roy thought in the privacy of his own mind, _but that's just further proof that Edward's far better off without me._

.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** _Colours in Your Eyes_  
 **Fandom:** _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ /manga  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** Mature  
 **Pairings:** Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, May Chang/Alphonse Elric, Lan Fan/Ling Yao, Paninya/Winry Rockbell, Gracia Hughes/Maes Hughes  
 **Warnings:** Ed's potty mouth, soulmate AU, Xing politics, mentions of homophobia, cultural differences, canon character death (you know which one), age gaps, why are these boys such idiots?  
 **Summary:** Everyone is born with the ability to only see the colour of their soulmate's eyes. Only upon touching their soulmate, can people see the rest of the world's colours.  
Edward Elric will do whatever it takes to get his brother's body back and ensure he can have his happily ever after with his soulmate, even if it means never finding his own soulmate.

 **A/N:** So, sorry in advance, a bit, but there is...very little Roy this chapter. Feel free to start whining now. XP

-Chapter 2-

"I wish you could properly appreciate this, Brother," Al said, staring out at the expanse of blue sky and blue sea stretching ahead of their ship.

Ed sighed and shrugged, was still a little shocked that he'd managed to keep his own colour vision from his brother after a whole year of practically living in each other's pockets, while Al regained a healthy weight and Ed had to get used to having two real arms again. And also learnt to keep weapons on himself, since he couldn't transmute them any more. (He'd learnt more than that when it came to not being able to use alchemy, but there were some memories of his struggles to adapt to its lack that he'd much rather forget.)

Granny had figured him out pretty much right off, but she'd allowed herself to be put off with a flat, "I don't wanna talk about it."

Winry'd taken a couple months, but she'd caught on in the end, and she'd kept on until he'd snapped, "He wants nothing to do with me, okay!" and hadn't brought it up again.

But Al'd had no idea, and Ed didn't know how much that had to do with Al's own adventures in discovering all the senses he hadn't had previously, blinding him to Ed rediscovering one of his own senses, and how much was Ed just being super sneaky around his brother.

Because Al wouldn't be put off by Ed not wanting to talk, or claiming that his nameless soulmate wanted nothing to do with him. He'd keep prying until he had the whole truth, and then he'd be angry with Ed for putting _his_ soulmate problems before his own.

That said, Al would probably also be the person most likely to understand why Ed'd decided he needed to grow up a little bit more, and give both himself and Mustang space to acclimate to their new disabilities, before even _thinking_ about trying to figure out where they stood with each other.

Not that Mustang's blindness had kept, from what Fuery had said when he'd turned up to deliver the promised retirement papers, which had taken a while to unbury. (Understandable, given the ruins Command had been in after the Dwarf in the Flask's attack had evaporated a huge chunk, not to mention all of the additional damage they'd caused in wearing down his Stone.) Apparently, Dr Marcoh'd had a Philosopher's Stone, and while Mustang had insisted it be used to heal Havoc's spine injury, first, he'd also got his sight back. So he could see his colours and once again aim for the Führership, just like he'd always planned.

Ed tried to pretend he wasn't hurt that Mustang hadn't even _tried_ to stop past his and Al's room when he'd been released – it was never hard to get a report on the bastard's movements, as many of the nurses had a crush on him – but it _did_ hurt, a little. Even if he got it; Mustang having his sight back didn't change how much of a landmine Ed was for him. And, after so long, it was probably laughably easy for him to pretend Ed wasn't a factor, and never would be again, now he'd resigned from the military.

Ed sighed and finally gave up on trying to reread one of the Xingan language books Ling had sent back across the desert for them, with the tickets for the ship they were currently on. Ed had been suspicious when he'd first opened the package, because Ling being nice _always_ put him on guard, but Ling had included a letter saying he was paying Ed back for all the room service bills. (Also, May was doing a lot of moping, and he was hoping Al could cheer her up. Ed understood that, had actually caught Al doing some moping of his own, and endured plenty of 'did you know' facts about May, most of which he'd apparently picked up while Ed had been recovering from being impaled.)

"How much longer, do you think?" Al asked, clearly noticing that Ed had given up on his reading.

Ed shrugged. "Ask a member of the crew."

Al made a face, because most of the crew spoke either Aerugonian or some other language from the countries bordering the sea they were sailing on. A couple of them spoke varying degrees of broken Xingan, and most of them knew some basic words, like 'yes' and 'no', but no one spoke even _broken_ Amestrisan; long discussions with others on the ship weren't fun for any of them. (That said, Ed was starting to pick up a bit of Aerugonian and the second most common language among the crew, which they called Gracen, or something. Not enough to hold a useful conversation, but it was becoming pretty clear that language acquisition was one of those things he was just _good_ at. Now he didn't have his Gate and couldn't use alchemy, the things he was good at had seriously decreased, and it was a relief whenever he found a new one, especially a new one that could prove useful at some point down the road.)

Al sighed and flopped down into the chair next to Ed's. "I can't wait to see her."

"I know."

Al slumped a bit, his expression turning glum. "What are we going to do? We're just alchemists from Amestris, not princes or anything, and we don't even have any real ties to the government; how can I ever stand up against whatever prospects May's clan already has for her?"

Ed barely resisted a sigh, because they'd gone over this at least once a week since he'd told his brother about Xing's customs in regards to soulmates, shortly after they'd returned to Resembool. "First," he offered flatly, "we're going to figure out what the age of marriageability is in Xing, and how long we have left. Then, you're going to work with Ling and May and find a way to make yourself more desirable than the competition. And if we have to send post back to Führer Grumman asking to buy a favour of some sort, we'll do that."

"I know," Al replied, his expression nothing less than heart-breaking. "But, what if–"

"If you start listing 'what if's, I'll throw you overboard," Ed interrupted, pinning his brother with a flat look, because they'd gone through this part enough times, too, that Ed knew he needed to stop it before Al got started, or he'd worry himself into an actual illness.

"You wouldn't _dare_ ," Al shot back, perking up slightly.

Ed snorted and shoved himself up out of his chair. "Spar with me?"

Al looked a bit uncertain for a long moment, but Ed just crossed his arms over his chest and waited him out, because his idiotic little brother had never been able to refuse the opportunity to remind Ed that he could kick his arse any day.

"Yeah," Al agreed at last, as he shoved himself out of his own chair, "let's do it."

Ed lost, as he'd expected, but at least Al'd stopped worrying for the moment, which had been the whole point, so he counted it as a win anyway.

-0-

They reached the Xingan port town three days later, and while Ling and May weren't there to welcome them – Ed honestly would have been surprised if they _had_ come, given their positions in the Imperial Court – there _was_ a familiar face waiting at the end of the dock for them, sans her familiar mask: "Lan Fan?" Ed called upon recognising her, surprised.

Lan Fan gave a small bow. "I'm to lead you both to the Imperial City," she said flatly.

"If you're here, who's babysitting Ling?" Ed had to ask.

Lan Fan glanced toward Al, a brief suggestion of humour darting through her dark eyes. "Her Imperial Highness, Princess May, seems to be of the impression that, should something happen to His Imperial Majesty while I'm away, I might accidentally 'lose' her soulmate in my rush to return to the palace."

Al scoffed, clearly unimpressed by the implied threat, but Ed couldn't quite stop a snicker at what he imagined had been an _excellent_ aghast expression on May's part at the audacity.

Lan Fan's mouth twitched as she turned away. "This way."

-0-

It took them another three days to make it to the capital on horseback, and Ed was actually kind of looking forward to just settling down and staying in one place for a while. (That year off, after the Promised Day, had completely ruined him.)

On the way, Lan Fan had politely given them a few warnings, including that it was taboo to refer to Ling by his name, and what to expect upon their arrival at the Imperial Court, so neither of them were particularly thrown by the welcoming party that came to meet them in ridiculously extravagant robes and gowns sparkling with bits of gold and gems, or the unnecessary amount of bowing and stupidly polite language.

Ling promised them a few hours to get settled in and cleaned up before the feast in their honour was due to begin, then called for a servant to lead them to their rooms, Lan Fan long vanished into the shadows of the entryway.

Ed wasn't surprised when May showed up not ten minutes after he and Al'd been left to their own devices in the room they were to share for the duration of their stay. She didn't even bother with a knock, just burst into the room, calling, "Mr Alphonse!" and ran straight into Al's waiting arms.

Ed sighed and tried to pretend the curling of warmth in his chest was actually irritation at the intrusion, and not pleasure at the chance to see Al and May reunited after almost a year and a half apart.

He let them hug for a long while, but when they both looked at each other in that same way Teacher and Sig always had right before things got a little _too_ personal for young eyes, and their faces started to gravitate toward each other, Ed stalked over and thumped his brother on the head.

" _Edward_!" Al complained, deigning to free one hand from May's back so he could rub at the top of his head.

"You two can start sucking face _after_ we sort out this wreck," Ed returned, unimpressed, and they both flushed, May's only barely visible underneath her however many unnecessary layers of makeup. "Idiots."

"A most excellent point!" Ling called, before stepping in through the window, wearing far more sensible clothing than he'd greeted them in.

Ed threw his hands up into the air, reminded of why he'd hated Ling so much before he'd been taken over by Greed and the homunculus' even more obnoxious bad habits had erased Ling's from his memory.

Ling flashed him a cheerful smile, then turned toward Al and May before Ed gave into the urge to punch his stupid face. "May, we talked about this," he said, his voice going lower, but still kind; not entirely unlike how Ed spoke to Al on those rare occasions when _he_ needed to be the sensible one. "Being caught fraternising with a foreigner may well bring your elders to believe they need to ignore tradition and marry you off sooner, and will certainly ruin any chances you currently have at marrying Al."

May slumped a bit and made a show of stepping back, out of Al's embrace. "I know," she said, sounding as heart-broken as Al looked.

Ed grunted and kicked a nearby pillow into the wall, then looked up at Ling. "This is your country, Your Imperial Arsehole; what do we need to do to get Al in these elders' good graces?"

Ling offered a brief, amused smile at the insult, while Al just sort of groaned, resigned. Then Ling's expression turned more serious as he folded his hands together in front of himself. "Lineage may be your most powerful weapon, in this," he offered, his eyebrows drawing tight together. "From what I recall of his tale, your father is very likely the one we of Xing refer to as the Philosopher of the West."

Ed shrugged and nodded. "I expect so. I mean, it's not like he's around any more to ask for confirmation, but, from what old man Fu told me, he was a contemporary of our Philosopher of the East, who popped up about four hundred years ago, and we're now nearly certain was the Dwarf in the Flask."

Ling nodded, but it was May who quietly said, "No one will believe you're his sons, but it's a widely accepted legend that the Philosopher of the West had gold hair and eyes, just like you both do; you can pass for descendants."

"Simple enough," Ed agreed, and Al nodded. "Any other ideas, in case that one either falls through, or isn't awesome enough?"

Ling offered Al a smile that made the hair on the back of Ed's neck stand on end. "We lack an ambassador from Amestris, if you can play the part?"

" _Me_?" Al squeaked, his eyes gone wide. "But I–I'm a _no one_."

"You're the brother of the Fullmetal Alchemist, and a national hero," Ed reminded him, and Al flushed again, ducking his head and absolutely _refusing_ to look at May.

(Ed wasn't sure if he wanted to coo – which was disturbing – or gag.)

Ling hummed, eyeing Ed. "In terms of official status, you'd make the better ambassador."

Ed snorted. "No one in their right mind would call me diplomatic."

"That's the truth," Al muttered, and Ed shot him a scowl, while May giggled.

Ling coughed. "You're well within your rights to name someone you trust to speak in your stead during peace talks."

Ed raised an eyebrow at that. "So...what? Al sits in on the boring meetings, while I get to tour the city and be a privileged fuck?"

Ling smiled at him. "I couldn't have put it better myself."

Ed pointed a threatening finger at him. "Don't think I won't punch you in the face just because I don't know where your shadow is, Your Imperial Arsehole."

Ling's smile widened. "Punching the emperor would be a terrible way to start our peace talks, Ambassador Elric."

Ed couldn't stop a grimace. "Ugh, just kill me now and get it over with. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this shit."

"Are you sure it's okay, though?" Al asked quietly, and Ed looked over to find him wringing his hands. "I mean, we don't have Führer Grumman's permission to be part of any peace talks on his behalf; I don't even think he knows we're here."

Ed shrugged. "We'll send a letter back asking permission," he decided, unconcerned. "It's true enough that we could use some sort of formal treaty with Xing, and it's not like I'm some little no-name kid with a high opinion of himself."

Al sighed. "I guess. But, well, you _retired_ , Brother."

"Pretty sure there's no rules about Amestrisan diplomats needing to be current members of the military," Ed pointed out in return, and Al grimaced, likely as aware as Ed about what he _hadn't_ said: He was pretty sure they would be the first true Amestrisan diplomatic party in the history of their country.

Ling cleared his throat and offered, "There are also customs that must be observed in requesting May's hand."

Al sighed again, far more heartfelt, while Ed scowled and complained, "What, being descended from a legend, saving a country, and being a fucking _epic_ diplomat isn't enough for you people?"

Al moaned and, when Ed looked over, found he'd dropped his face into his hands and was shaking his head, while May gently patted his shoulder, part of her bottom lip caught between her teeth, like she was maybe trying not to laugh.

Ed looked back at Ling and raised his eyebrows at the idiot pri– Correction, idiot _emperor_.

Ling raised his own eyebrows back. "Xingan marriages must be properly debated, planned, and performed to bring the greatest amount of luck to the new couple."

"That," Ed returned flatly, ignoring Al's rather pointed groan, "is scientifically unsound and complete _bollocks_."

Ling coughed, his eyes gleaming with what Ed was _nearly_ certain was amusement. "I expected you to say that," he admitted, "but your feelings on the matter aside, you will have to, as you say, play by Xingan rules, if you intend for Al to marry a Xingan princess in Xing."

Ed grimaced and rubbed his hands over his face, buying time to remind himself that _this was for Al_ , and he'd already decided there wasn't a fucking thing he wouldn't do for the sake of his brother's happiness.

"Fine," he said as he dropped his hands back to his sides, "tell us what we need to do."

"Not _both_ of you," Ling corrected, pointing between Ed and Al, "only _you_." He pointed firmly at Ed.

Ed frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "What the actual fuck? What've I got to do with any of this?"

May cleared her throat and, almost certainly prompted by Al, interrupted, "I don't know the custom in Amestris, but in Xing, it is the grandparents and parents who settle the details of the union. Usually, the two people getting married won't even meet until their wedding day."

"In Amestris," Al offered, before Ed could start snarling about what a bunch of backward fucks this whole country was, "only the two people interested in starting a relationship are involved in the process, though it's considered common courtesy to introduce each other to your families before you start talking about marriage." He cleared his throat and added, "Arranged marriages did happen, according to some of the history books I've read, but it's only done among the really rich, any more."

"Remind me to ask you more of this," Ling suggested, clearly aimed at both Ed and Al, before focussing on Ed again. "As all of your family is dead, it falls to you, as the eldest son, to make the match for Al."

Ed scowled and tightened his arms across his chest, but nodded in understanding.

"Customarily, a matchmaker is the one who makes the initial contact, but it's not unheard of for the male's parents to make the initial contact with the female's parents on their own." Ling took a careful breath, his expression twisting with a grimace. "I can help you figure out what to say, and what gifts to give, but I can't go with you; all of your contact with the Changs will have to be done alone."

Ed grimaced himself, because that had the potential to go completely to shit very, _very_ fast.

Still, this was for Al, and if he couldn't keep a handle on his temper and shitty language for long enough to help his brother marry his soulmate, what fucking good was he?

"Have you got a book on the customs?" he asked, couldn't quite keep his tone from being grudging.

Ling offered him a faint smile, though, and nodded. "I'll have the best ones I can find delivered to your room by the end of the feast. Once you've read them, let me know, and we can go over anything you're having trouble with."

-0-

Reading up on Xingan marriage customs had _not_ been how Ed expected to spend his first two weeks in Xing, but it gave him something to do while Al played at diplomacy with Ling and his ministers. Once he'd finished, he sent a servant to pass a note to Ling that read, _'You people sure take the possibility of a bride being possessed by evil seriously. Forget to tell someone about your adventures in Amestris?'_

" _I_ ," Ling announced as he stepped through their room's window that evening, "am not expected to bear any children."

"I don't want to know," Al muttered into the papers he'd been bowed over since they'd returned from dinner.

Ed snorted as he leant over to unbury the notes he'd taken while he'd been reading. "Yeah, so," he told Ling as the idiot emperor came over to sit across from him, "you people are so many kinds of fucking _ridiculous_ , you realise that, right?"

Ling smiled at him. "Coming from you, that's practically a compliment."

Al snickered and quickly ducked his head when Ed turned a scowl on him.

Ed huffed and turned back to Ling, waving his notes at him. "Fuck off. I've got questions, yeah, but, also, can I borrow Lan Fan one day?"

Ling frowned. "Lan Fan? Why?"

"Because I'm betting it's bad karma or some shit to ask the emperor for a tour, and it'll look sketchy if I ask May to point out her folks to me. Which leaves Lan Fan. So I need to borrow her."

Ling sighed. "I'll ask her," he promised.

That was really about as much as Ed knew he could expect on that front, so he turned to the far more tedious task of figuring out what drugs Xingans were on when they made up their betrothal and wedding customs.

-0-

Lan Fan _was_ willing to play tour guide for Ed, having ordered two members of the palace guard to keep an eye on Ling in her stead. (Personally, Ed would have been plenty soothed by the promise of Al being in the room with him, but he also thought Ling's face was in need of a few punches, so he was fairly certain his opinion would be discounted out of hand.)

The Imperial Palace was fucking _huge_ – Ed had sort of been distantly aware of that, just from having seen the outside of it – and he was glad to have a guide who he knew and trusted not to leave him in some dusty corner as some sort of really fucked up joke. (Another reason he hadn't wanted Ling to show him around.)

Lan Fan was efficient, unsurprisingly, giving him quiet directions as she led him through the various hallways and showed him into any rooms he was allowed to peek into. He wasn't certain he'd remember everything, but he'd taken care to memorise the route between his guest quarters and the hall where the Chang clan had a presence, as well as the path to Ling's hallway. (Which he was fairly certain he'd only been allowed to see because of who his guide was.) She'd also pointed out a number of shadowed nooks, places where an assassin could easily lay in wait without anyone the wiser.

"Why show me these?" Ed asked after the third one, eyeing her curiously. "Not that I'm ungrateful–" on the contrary, being aware of potential danger was strangely settling "–but I assume you use those to avoid notice, just like any would-be assassins would."

Lan Fan shrugged. "Knowing where I _could_ be, won't help you much in actually spotting me."

That was...true. Damn.

As she pointed to another spot, she added, "The treaty with Amestris, while popular enough, has some opponents. None vocal enough for concern, yet, but I've learnt to plan ahead when possible; Alphonse allowed me to put a guard on him, but you won't."

Ed offered her a slightly helpless smile and shrugged. "I don't like being followed."

She let out an uncharacteristic snort. "You and His Imperial Majesty both," she returned, and Ed looked away so she wouldn't see his grin, plenty familiar with Ling's habit of losing his guards. Lan Fan stopped then, catching his arm with too-cool fingers, and Ed raised an eyebrow at her, distantly wondering how many Xingans were unnerved by her metal arm. "I'll make you a deal," she offered, her eyes too sharp behind her mask. "No guards inside the palace, in trade for you not attempting to lose your guard if you go into town."

Ed could see the sense in having a guard out in the city, should he choose to leave the palace, and he'd very likely need the help in finding his way the first few times, so... "Agreed," he promised.

"Thank you." She inclined her head, then turned and continued the tour.

-0-

With Edward free of the military's leash, and utterly silent for the past year, the last thing Roy had expected was for Führer Grumman, near the tail end of Roy's weekly phone report, to say, _"I received an interesting letter from Major Elric a couple days ago."_

' _Major_ Elric', because Grumman was one of those people who always used a soldier's rank, never their code name, even after they'd retired. Edward, had he been listening, would very likely have been furious.

Roy cleared his throat. "Interesting how, sir?"

 _"Apparently, he and his brother are in Xing,"_ Grumman said, all unaware of how much those words had just made breathing a struggle for Roy; there was a sort of dark humour in Edward putting an entire desert between them. _"They're requesting permission to draft and sign a peace treaty with the new emperor on Amestris' behalf."_

It took a moment for Grumman's words to find purchase in the blank space that Roy's mind had just turned into, but then what he'd said registered, and Roy heard himself flatly state, "Well, there goes any chance we might have had at signing a formal peace treaty with Xing."

Grumman chortled. _"You think so? Perhaps they'll surprise us; if anything can be said of Major Elric and his brother, it's that they never fail to produce results that benefit us."_

"If you say so, sir," Roy returned blandly, because what he remembered best about Edward's many missions, was the amount of extra paperwork he ended up with, due to the boy's hair-trigger temper and habit of destroying everything in sight when in pursuit of a target.

 _"I believe I'll put my faith in them once again,"_ Grumman decided, before letting out a laugh that he'd likely intended to sound helpless, but just sounded especially amused, to Roy. _"Likely, they're already talking to the Xingan emperor."_

"That sounds like something Fullmetal would do," Roy agreed, because Edward had never been the sort to ask permission.

He also rarely asked forgiveness, now Roy thought about it, unless someone forced his hand. (Usually Alphonse.) And, apparently, he sometimes fled to an entirely different country without a word to anyone until it was too late to stop him.

No, he was _not_ going to be sore about this. Hadn't he already decided that Edward staying well away from him was best for the boy?

"However, sir," he cautioned, mostly to avoid recognising the constriction of his chest, "I wouldn't get my hopes up too much."

 _"Don't worry about me, Brigadier General,"_ Grumman shot back without missing a beat. _"You've got far more immediate problems to focus on."_

That was true enough; playing mediator between the Ishvalans and the military was no simple task, especially given who he was.

He almost wanted to switch places with Edward. _Almost_.

He hung up with Grumman not long after that and went to hunt down Riza, because she was the only one who would understand when he said, "Fullmetal's in Xing."

Riza stiffened, her eyes widening just enough to be noticeable. "In _Xing_?" she repeated, so clearly disbelieving.

Roy shrugged. "He and Alphonse apparently fancy themselves to be diplomats, now," he offered with what he hoped was an amused smile.

She didn't smile back. Instead, her mouth turned down at the corners, something worryingly akin to pity in her eyes. "Sir–"

"I only assumed you'd be interested in the update," Roy interrupted, turning away from her. "Carry on, Captain."

"Yes, sir," she agreed with military efficiency.

Roy didn't look back as he walked away; he couldn't face her grief on his behalf.

-0-

Ed was completely unsurprised when Grumman's return letter gave them permission to treat with Xing on his behalf – Ed was technically the one in charge, as he was older and had the official military title, but he suspected that Grumman was fully aware that he was keeping well away from everything he could – as well as a list of topics to cover during the talks, most of which Al had brought up long before the letter's arrival.

As for requesting May's hand for Al... So far, all of their _extremely unscientific_ forays into the luck surrounding the potential marriage had come back with positive results. The Changs certainly appeared willing to agree to the match, but there was a run of completely pointless and vaguely insulting haggling over the price that they were owed in return for May, as well as an exchange of gifts and debating the wedding date to get through, before it was all set in stone.

Ed had, with funds given to him by Ling, already gone out and collected those items that would best serve as a gift for the Changs. His guard that day, Gang Li, had actually been quite helpful there, as he'd bargained for his own son's marriage only the year before. They'd commiserated a bit about how stressful the whole thing was, and Gang'd had some helpful pointers for the haggling. (Ling's best suggestion had been to, "Let _them_ win.")

He'd also, while he was out, found some things to send to Winry and Granny, pending Al's approval – they were supposed to be from both of them, and fuck knew Ed's aesthetic tastes had never aligned with anyone else's – and a miniature black Xingan dragon – small enough he could easily hide it in his fist without anyone the wiser – carved from a single branch and painted over with resin from the tree that had supplied the branch, he'd been informed upon asking.

Not really something that would have caught his eye, normally – too few spikes, for one – but, at the right angle, the resin looked red, instead of black, and the little orb in its foreclaws had developed a few spikes upward, which the seller had declared a flaw, but Ed had seen, from the perfect angle, looked like the alchemic symbol for fire.

He hadn't even really thought about what he was doing until after he'd handed over the necessary yuan and walked away, stopping in disbelief a few stalls further down as he realised he'd bought the damn thing because it reminded him of Mustang.

He'd told himself he couldn't return it, lest it be seen as an insult, but he didn't have any excuse for the way he'd kept it in his pocket since, sometimes pulling it out to look at it when he was alone.

Like right then, leaning against the railing overlooking the Imperial Gardens, twisting the figure this way and that between his fingers, and letting himself smile a bit tiredly as the light from the full moon lit the red hidden in the resin.

"You found your soulmate," Ling said from behind him, completely unexpected.

Ed flinched and turned to look back over his shoulder, feeling weirdly guilty at being caught staring at his impulse buy, especially since it had been purchased with funds Ling had given to him for Al's betrothal.

Ling was wearing what Ed had come to realise were casual robes, which still looked unnecessarily extravagant, but less so than what he wore when he was holding court or accepting guests; they were what he wore around the palace, when he wasn't sneaking through windows to visit Ed and Al in secret. Lan Fan was standing at the top of the flight of stairs, close enough to come to Ling's aide if he was attacked, but far enough to grant some semblance of privacy. (A part of Ed was just glad she wasn't lurking out of sight; that always unnerved him, even though he trusted her not to jump out and try giving him a heart attack for the sheer amusement factor.)

Ling stepped forward, coming to a stop at the railing next to Ed and looking at the dragon he was holding. "The red doesn't show up in greyscale," he commented.

Ed sighed and slumped against the railing, looking down at the figure in his hands. "Figures," he muttered.

Ling was quiet for a moment, before suggesting, tone full of painful understanding, "It didn't work out."

Ed sighed again and shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe. He knew, for years, and never even let on."

Ling was silent as he considered that, head turned to stare out over the garden ahead of them. "I don't know how they're looked upon in Amestris," he said at last, tone far more careful than Ed was used to hearing from him when he wasn't playing at Emperor, "but, in Xing, same-gender soulmates are assumed to be mismatches."

Ed frowned. "Mismatches?"

Ling shrugged. "You read of our customs; marriage is meant to result in the strongest possible continuation of the family line. To be paired with another of your own gender is a mistake of the gods, and the soulmates are forcefully separated, if necessary, and married off to more acceptable matches."

Ed felt sick at the thought, clenching his fist tight around his stupid dragon. "You don't believe that," he said, was a little surprised by how raspy his voice came out.

"It doesn't matter what I believe," Ling replied, and the hard lines of his face reminded Ed of the slightly pinched look he sometimes got when someone suggested Lan Fan should be looking at marriage prospects, rather than doing a man's duty of guarding the emperor. "Laws can be rewritten, but cultural beliefs aren't so easy to change."

Ed turned his eyes toward the garden. "Fuck that."

The sound Ling let out couldn't really be called a laugh, but Ed assumed that's what he'd been aiming for, anyway. "Is it different, in Amestris?" he asked, instead of pointing out what they both already knew: Living out your life with your soulmate wasn't the norm in Xing.

"I don't know," Ed admitted, feeling tired. "I think it depends on the people, a bit. Like, no one in Rush Valley seems to care that Winry and Paninya are soulmates, and Garfiel's been openly gay since long before we met him, and he hasn't had any problems. But that's..." He shook his head, not really sure how to follow that.

"You're a national hero, and an ambassador," Ling said for him.

Ed scoffed at the last. "I'm an ambassador in name only, and we both know it."

Ling straightened and made a show of looking thoughtful. "Well, I've yet to receive any complaints about your conduct, and the city still stands, despite you having been here for almost three months." He flashed Ed a smile that made him want to punch him. "I'd say you make a surprisingly effective diplomat."

Ed rolled his eyes. " _Not_ blowing shit up doesn't make me a fucking diplomat, Your Imperial Arsehole, it just makes me a good houseguest."

Ling laughed at that, relaxing against the railing again and actually looking his age, for once; becoming emperor had aged him far more than carrying the weight of his clan, or playing host to Greed ever could have, and the deepening wrinkles around his mouth and eyes always made Ed's chest hurt a little. "Well, thank you for not destroying my house, then."

Ed stuck his tongue out at him, mostly just to make the idiot laugh again, which he did.

As Ling calmed back down, Ed sighed and drooped against the railing, looking at the dragon in his hand again. "It's Mustang," he said, the first time he'd admitted it to anyone.

Ling let out a startled breath. "Oh." He coughed, and Ed glanced over to find his face twisted into a sort of amused grimace. "That's..."

"A massive fucking train wreck?" Ed suggested flatly.

Ling coughed again, very obviously _not_ looking at Ed. "Complicated," he offered.

"Just say it like it is, instead of playing at diplomacy, would you?" Ed complained.

Ling shook his head and asked, "Al doesn't know, does he?"

Ed sighed and shook his own head. "I couldn't tell him. He'd tell me to go home and sort things with the bastard, but he's made it pretty fucking clear I'm nothing but trouble for him; there's nothing to fucking _fix_." He looked away, up toward the moon, and added, "Anyway, I have to stay here. For Al's sake. Gotta sort out him and May."

Ling let out a loud, obvious sigh. "Are you ever going to stop living your life for your brother?"

Ed glared at him, because that had been one of Greed's lines. "Shut the fuck up. You don't have the right to talk, _Emperor Ling_."

Ling's expression tightened. "I have _all_ the right to talk," he returned, voice gone flat. "I know exactly what I'm sacrificing, and I'll regret it until the day I die, because there's no way I'll be able to outlive this duty. But Al will stop needing you, one day; you're not trapped yet."

Ed looked away and struggled to swallow past the tightness of his throat. "So, what? Get locked into the same shit situation as you and Lan Fan?"

"Unlike in Xing," Ling reminded him, a note of irritation in his voice, "Amestris' leader isn't expected to have an heir."

...shit, right. Ed hadn't thought about that. Amestris also didn't have class or clan barriers getting in the way, like it was for Ling and Lan Fan. The only social hurdles he and Mustang would face were age and gender. And, too, their own past, but that was...complicated, he supposed. They'd driven each other to violence multiple times, had suffered through three years as subordinate and commanding officer, before fighting their way through what could have been the end of the world, neither of them coming through unscathed (even if Mustang had fixed his sight, you never forgot the sensation of being trapped in the Gate and having too much knowledge shoved into your head).

And now...what were they? Soulmates, he assumed, but what did that even _mean_? For Ling and Lan Fan, it seemed to mean being lonely a lot, putting duty before the person who meant the world to them; for Al and May, it seemed to mean longing glances and a sense of anticipation for the future; for Winry and Paninya, it looked all too much like being best friends, moving constantly in step, and leaning against each other as they laughed or cried.

Ling sighed. "If not for yourself, will you try it for _me_?"

Ed frowned at him, confused. "For you?"

Ling offered him a smile that looked crooked. "For Lan Fan and me," he agreed.

Ed blinked, feeling a little like his heart hurt, because he got it; Ling was asking him to do the one thing he couldn't: Find a way to be with his soulmate the way it was supposed to be, even though one of them had to make the wishes of their country their priority.

He looked back down at the dragon in his hand; wondered, briefly, what he would do if Mustang told him to take a hike, before remembering Ling's expression while they'd been trapped in Gluttony's stomach, when he'd admitted that Lan Fan was his soulmate, and they could never be anything more than what they were, because those were the rules of their culture. Ling was doing everything in his power to help Ed bend those same rules for Al and May; the least Ed could do was go home to Amestris and face Mustang again.

"After Al and May's wedding," he said quietly, closing his hand around his dragon again, "I'll take the signed treaty back to Amestris."

The breath that Ling let out sounded like he'd been holding it for _years_ , and Ed looked over to find a broken little smile being directed his way. "Thank you," Ling said.

"Just...don't get your hopes up," Ed warned him a bit awkwardly, looking back toward the garden and tracing the glow of the moonlight on the shrubs and stone path with his eyes. "Like I said, he's made it pretty clear he wants nothing to do with me."

Ling caught him around the shoulders and drew him into a sideways hug, which Ed scowled and made a desperate bid to escape from, to no avail; fucking idiot emperor. "I have every faith in your stubbornness."

"My stubbornness is gonna land an elbow in your stomach if you don't fucking let me go!" Ed snarled.

Ling laughed as he freed him, and Ed's huff wasn't quite as irritated as he'd intended it to be, softened by the honesty of the idiot's amusement.

He tried not to be too annoyed that he was apparently a sap for his friends' happiness.

-0-

Finally, after another month of forcing a polite smile for the Changs, they settled on a date for the wedding. Which, actually, Ed had been the hold up, that time.

In Xing, the age of majority – and, therefore, marriageability – was fourteen, and May would be thirteen in another couple months, which meant they could have the marriage as early as a year and a half from then, planning around a couple of those tedious unlucky days (which Ed didn't inquire after, for the sake of his own sanity).

However, in Amestris, the age of majority was sixteen, with only a handful of young couples actually getting married before at least one of them had turned eighteen, and Al would only be seventeen during the earliest possible date.

Ed couldn't do it. As much as he wanted his brother and May together as soon as possible, he couldn't, in good conscience, ignore the laws of his own culture simply because they would be having the wedding in Xing, where the rules were looser, or because Al and May were soulmates.

Hating himself just a little bit as he did so, Ed insisted they wait three years, and while the Changs were clearly mystified by his insistence that May be sixteen before the wedding, they were able to agree on a date the week after her birthday.

When Al returned from his meeting with Ling and his ministers, Ed was sitting on the edge of their low table, bent forward with his head hanging down toward his knees and his hands locked together at the back of his neck.

"Brother?" Al asked, so clearly worried.

"We have a date for the wedding," Ed offered quietly.

Al didn't move from next to the door, and Ed didn't need to look up to know his expression would be tense; this should have been a _happy_ moment, dammit. "And?" Al finally prompted, when Ed couldn't quite figure out how to explain what he'd done.

"The eleventh of December," Ed managed at last.

"Well, that's–"

"1919."

Whatever Al had been holding hit the floor with a crash and a flutter of papers. " _Three years_?" he demanded, his voice cracking. "Why would they–?"

"Me," Ed interrupted, finally freeing his head and looking up to meet his brother's eyes, refused to let himself flinch away from the look of betrayal he was met with. "I'm the one who insisted we wait."

"Why would you do that?" Al demanded, anger reddening his cheeks and twisting his expression into something terrible. "I thought you were on our side, Ed!"

"I am," Ed shot back with a glare. "She's _only twelve_!"

"She'll be thirteen in a couple months!" Al pointed out, his voice rising. "And the age of marriageability is fourteen, in Xing–"

"We are not Xingan, Alphonse!" Ed snarled. "You are an Amestrisan citizen, and a diplomat besides; you can't ignore one law just because–"

"She's my _soulmate_ , Edward!" Al shouted back, before something _vicious_ crossed his face. "Not that _you'd_ know what it's like to have one."

That hit like a punch to the solar plexus, and it was all Ed could do to stand and find the breath necessary to flatly state, "You're waiting three years. That's final." And then he brushed past his brother and out of their room.

As soon as the door had latched behind him, Ed heard Al let out a scream of rage that he actually probably would have been proud of, under any other circumstances, and the sound of something shattering.

Ed let his feet lead him wherever they would as he struggled to catch his breath. When he found himself in the fucking garden he'd made his promise to Ling to talk to Mustang as soon as Al and May were married in, he heard himself let out a laugh that sounded way too close to broken, and bypassed the railing for one of the benches that speckled the paths. Most of the flowers were dead, this late in autumn, but he found a little red blossom struggling to hang on just within reach of the bench, and leant forward to stare at it, for no other reason than that it was something to focus on that wasn't his own shame.

He wasn't certain how long he'd sat there, staring at that flower – long enough for the sun to start to set and the servants to come through and light the nearby lanterns – when Al said from behind him, quietly, "It's red."

"I know," Ed admitted, feeling too tired and worn to keep hiding this from his brother. "I _have_ known. Punched Mustang's shoulder while we were all in hospital and just–" He shrugged and sat up a bit so he could make an exploding motion with his hands. "Pretty sure he knew the whole time."

Al's arms reached around from behind him, and Ed found himself being hugged, Al's face pressed against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know. Why didn't I _know_?" he added, his voice breaking on the last word.

Ed pressed his hands against the arms wrapped around his chest, holding his brother there. "You were sleeping half the day, and spending the other half trying to adapt to being able to smell and touch and taste things again, as well as suddenly having colour vision; it wasn't hard to hide it from you."

Al pulled away from him and stepped over the bench to sit down next to him. There were tear tracks on his cheeks, shining in the flickering flame from the nearby lantern, but that didn't detract even the slightest from the scowl he shot at Ed. "Why didn't you _tell me_? Didn't I deserve to know?"

Ed sighed and shook his head. "Al, I'd just found out my soulmate knew about me for at least three years and had made a point of not touching me so I wouldn't find out, and then he fucking _left_ without a backwards glance as soon as he was released; I didn't even want to _think_ about it, much less tell anyone else what had happened." He looked away from Al's broken expression and cleared his throat. "I get it, though. I was a pain in his arse, and a kid, besides; the last thing he wanted was to be saddled with _me_ as a soulmate."

"That's not fair!"

" _Life_ isn't fair," Ed said flatly, turning a bland look on his brother. "We, of all people, know that."

Al swallowed and shook his head, expression turning mulish. "Well, you're not a kid any more, so I think you should just go back home and–and– I don't know! Tell him he's stupid!"

Ed couldn't stop the laughter that burst out of him, at that, and Al followed suit after another moment.

When they both managed to stop laughing, he offered his brother a tired smile, and agreed, "I will. _After_ you're married."

Al's expression twisted, caught between a handful of emotions, and Ed could only make out what looked like anger, and maybe disbelief?

"But, then, if we hold it sooner–"

"I said _no_ , Alphonse," Ed interrupted, frowning. "You can wait three years, and so can I."

Al slumped and muttered, "Fine. But you have to start coming to the treaty meetings, since you're not playing nice with the Changs any more."

Ed grimaced, but had to admit that sounded like a fair punishment for forcing Al and May to wait. "Yeah, all right. But if I say something stupid and fuck everything up, I'm blaming you."

Al shoved him, so Ed shoved him back, and they kept shoving each other until they'd both fallen off the bench and shared a laugh over how stupid they were.

It wouldn't be easy, but Ed knew they could wait another three years for happiness, so long as they still had each other.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** _Colours in Your Eyes_  
 **Fandom:** _Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood_ /manga  
 **Author:** Batsutousai  
 **Rating:** Mature  
 **Pairings:** Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, May Chang/Alphonse Elric, Lan Fan/Ling Yao, Paninya/Winry Rockbell, Gracia Hughes/Maes Hughes  
 **Warnings:** Ed's potty mouth, soulmate AU, Xing politics, mentions of homophobia, cultural differences, canon character death (you know which one), age gaps, why are these boys such idiots?  
 **Summary:** Everyone is born with the ability to only see the colour of their soulmate's eyes. Only upon touching their soulmate, can people see the rest of the world's colours.  
Edward Elric will do whatever it takes to get his brother's body back and ensure he can have his happily ever after with his soulmate, even if it means never finding his own soulmate.

 **A/N:** And here's the closing chapter! :D

FFN: A link to the masterpost on tumblr, with links to the art, should be on my profile by the time you see this. (There are two pieces of art for the first chapter, one for the second chapter, and one for this one.)

-Chapter 3-

If Grumman had heard anything about Edward or Alphonse since the word about them being in Xing three and a half years ago, he hadn't seen fit to pass it on to Roy. He forced himself to view it as a _good_ thing; just because previous experience suggested that Edward was loud and impossible to miss hearing about until he'd done something he couldn't fix, didn't mean that was the case here. For one, there was a rather obvious natural barrier between them; for another, Roy was hardly privy to the Führer's correspondence with Xing, especially since he'd been in Ishval until less than a month ago.

In fact, he'd barely finished unpacking his new office, when Grumman had told him to go down to the official border crossing between Amestris and Aerugo to await the arrival of the Xingan ambassador. So, if nothing else, he knew Edward hadn't managed to completely destroy their relationship with Xing. (He suspected Alphonse had stepped in and mitigated whatever damage Edward had wrought; that _was_ how the brothers usually operated.)

He tried not to form any expectations about the ambassador while he waited for them, but it was hard _not_ to run possibilities. (Especially since that kept him from wondering after Edward. It was a bad habit he really needed to break; Edward had made it quite clear that he didn't want anything to do with Roy, and that growing part of Roy – fed by lonely nights and watching his team and his aunt's women find partners – that wanted a second chance was unlikely to make so much as a dent in Edward's infamous stubbornness, especially with the distance between them.) Would they be delicate, and that's why they hadn't crossed the desert? Or were they just very, _very_ particular about sand? Did they even speak Amestrisan? (They had best; Amestris didn't exactly have a wealth of Xingan translators to assist in communication.)

So far, all of the Xingans he'd met had come through the desert, rather than by sea. And, while they'd all been a little...unconventional, they'd seemed like good people. (At the least, they'd all sacrificed their share in the fight against Father.) He didn't really know anything about the new emperor, save that there was one, and he was one of the previous emperor's sons, so he couldn't even use _that_ knowledge to judge what sort of ambassador he'd send.

"You're fidgeting, sir," Riza remarked blandly.

Roy cleared his throat and carefully straightened, not quite coming to attention, but close enough that his training would kick in and keep him still. "Noted, Colonel."

And then Havoc jogged back over from where he'd been chatting with the gate guards on their side. "They're coming through now, Chief," he reported.

They? Their ambassador had brought a retinue?

Well, if you were intending to spend gods knew how long in a foreign country, Roy supposed it made sense to do so with familiar faces.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel," Roy got out before the heavy gates started to swing open, and all three of them turned their attention to seeing what sort of person they'd been sent from Xing.

"Grazie!" a hauntingly familiar voice called, right before a man with long, golden-blond hair pulled back in a high ponytail stepped through the opened gates, looking back over his shoulder as he said something in another language, his voice cheerful, but with a hint of concern? A female voice responded, sounding irritated, and Edward laughed, the sound so utterly _free_.

Riza failed to stifle a startled noise on one side on him, while Havoc's cigarette fell from his gaping mouth to the gravel at his feet.

For his part, Roy just stared, captivated by the mere sight of Edward, grown into a man while he'd been away. He was wearing what Roy assumed were a Xingan-style jacket and trousers in black, with the edging and clasps of the jacket done in yellow. It suited him far more than his hooded coat – which Maes had once told him was red and as attention-catching as his personality, to those who could see it – made him look less like he was trying to take up as much space as he possibly could.

And then Edward turned forward again, and Roy found himself meeting brilliant gold eyes, still lit with that familiar fire, but also a lot...calmer, perhaps. Settled.

Edward's smile faltered briefly, and then came back with the sort of force of will that made something in Roy's chest ache. "Should have guessed you lot would get stuck on ambassador-sitting duty," he said a bit mockingly, a hint of an accent shading his words.

" _Brother_ ," Alphonse said as he stepped past the edges of the opened gate, tired disapproval in his voice. His eyes and hair were as brilliantly golden as Edward's, and he'd also clearly grown into a man, not quite so tall as his armour body had been, but Roy suspected he was still taller than Edward. He was dressed in a similar style to his brother, but brown edged in yellow, instead of black.

There was a young Xingan woman at his side, who couldn't have been more than seventeen, by Roy's estimate, and was just pregnant enough to show. Alphonse's arm was held like he wanted to help her walk, but she had very obviously crossed her own arms over her chest and wasn't looking at him.

And then, as three other Xingans followed Alphonse and the young woman – an older woman leading a mule weighed down with bags, and two men with the bearing of of soldiers – Alphonse caught sight of Roy, Riza, and Havoc, and his face sort of froze for a moment, before he smiled. "General! I sent the Führer a letter with our expected date of arrival–"

"You did _what_?!" Edward demanded, sounding so much like himself as a child, Roy had to look at him to remind himself he'd grown.

"–but I didn't really expect anything to come of it, other than maybe a car waiting for us," Alphonse finished, before he turned a glare on Edward. "Which is doubly important, with May–"

"I am not an invalid, Alphonse!" the young woman snapped.

May was the name of the young princess who'd appeared with Envy while they'd been underground, Roy recalled. He'd never known much about her, other than that Edward had gone north after her and Scar, and they'd apparently settled into something akin to an alliance by the time the Promised Day had rolled around.

"Doghouse!" Edward sing-songed, and Alphonse's face turned bright red and he very obviously clasped his hands in front of himself.

The young woman shot Edward an unimpressed look as she walked toward Roy, stopping just out of arm's reach and unfolding her arms before giving a short bow. As she straightened, she said, "I am May Elric, the fourteenth princess of Xing. I was sent by His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Xing, to serve as his voice in Amestris."

Wait. May _Elric_?

"Al got _married_?" Havoc blurted out.

Alphonse sighed and nodded, but it was Edward who said, as he came over to stand next to May and tug on one of her braids, earning him a glare, "Yup. Turns out Al and May're soulmates." He grinned, and Roy honestly couldn't tell if it was because he was happy for Al, or in response to May's glare. "Xingan custom requires the arrangements are made by the eldest relatives of the bride and groom-to-be, so I had to go with Al to Xing and sort everything out."

Something in Roy's chest eased; Edward hadn't been trying to put a desert between them, he'd been looking after his brother.

Did that mean... Did Roy have a second chance with Edward?

Riza cleared her throat, and Roy suspected he'd get a disapproving frown if he looked at her, so he didn't. Instead, he inclined his head toward May and offered, "I'm General Roy Mustang, and these are Colonel Riza Hawkeye and Lieutenant Colonel Jean Havoc; we've been sent to collect you and your retinue, and escort you to Central City." Then he looked over slightly, meeting gold eyes again. "Edward, Alphonse, it's good to see you both looking so well."

Edward shrugged, leaving it for Alphonse, who had approached while Roy was speaking, to reply, "Likewise, sir."

Roy offered him a smile. "And congratulations are in order, I expect."

Alphonse's cheeks shaded with pink and he cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

Riza stepped forward, then. "Princess May, if you and your companions will follow myself and Lieutenant Colonel Havoc, we'll show you to the cars."

"Of course," she agreed, before saying something in that same language Edward had used before. (And she'd clearly been the one who had responded, unless the older woman with the mule had the exact same pitch.)

Edward moved to go with the rest of his party, not sparring Roy a glance, and something in his chest _squeezed_. Without any conscious thought on his part, his hand snapped out and caught Edward's, holding fast. "Edward–" he started, before realising he didn't really know what to say.

Edward turned to look at him, his expression impossibly blank; a distant part of Roy was surprised at his control. "General?" he returned, his voice flat.

Roy swallowed against the tightness of his throat, and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't– You had the right. To know. I should have told you."

"Yeah," Edward replied, his mouth curling into a snarl and anger filling his voice, even as hurt dimmed his eyes, "you really fucking _should've_."

Roy's chest ached, looking into those familiar eyes. In a desperate bid to keep Edward from pulling away and letting that be that, he said, "You were so focussed on your quest–"

"Do you ever stop fucking lying?" Edward snapped, bringing up his free hand and shoving a finger against Roy's sternum. "I didn't come back here just to listen to more of your conceited, 'everyone loves me 'cause I'm pretty' bull–"

"You were _ten_!" Roy interrupted, irritated that Edward had managed to, like always, completely obliterate any semblance of control Roy might have had over the conversation. "What did you want me to say? 'Hey, I know you've just lost your arm and leg, and you wouldn't know me from the Führer, but your eyes are the only colour I've ever seen, so I think we're soulmates. Let's hold hands and find out'?"

Edward just sort of stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide with shock, before they narrowed, and the finger that had been shoving against his sternum formed into a fist that caught Roy's cheek with all the force of a runaway train.

He stumbled back a step, eyes watering and jaw aching.

There came what sounded like a scuffle from off to the side, and Roy glanced over while he gingerly pressed his hand against his jaw, only to find Riza very firmly holding Havoc from coming to Roy's aid, while Alphonse and all four of the Xingans watched on with either frowns, or dispassionate stares.

Honestly, Roy'd rather suspected he was going to be on his own, in this one. He _hadn't_ expected it to be quite so public, but he'd been the one to make the first move, so it was his own fault.

He turned back to Edward as the young man said, his voice low and laced with fury, "You had _three years_ worth of opportunities to find a better moment, you imbecile, so don't fucking feed me that bullshit. If your issue's that I was a kid, or a fucking disaster everywhere I went, then fucking _say so_."

Roy carefully stretched his jaw, wincing at the burn of pain, but it didn't feel broken, and he suspected Edward actually _would_ break his jaw if he tried to put this debate on hold for later, so he carefully replied, "Yes, the age difference bothered me, because I couldn't afford the scandal, and you were my subordinate, besides."

Edward's expression remained a mask of anger, save for that little glimmer of hurt in his eyes, and Roy felt rather a lot like how he'd done after Ishval. "Is that it?" Edward asked after a long moment of silence.

Roy seriously considered just nodding and letting that be the end of it, if only because his jaw ached, but it was a lie of omission that had set them on this path, and he knew all too well how good Edward was at sniffing out the truth of a matter. So he closed his eyes and quietly admitted, "I was afraid."

Edward shifted, the gravel giving the movement away, but didn't actually say anything.

Which was probably for the best, because Roy wasn't completely certain he'd be able to explain properly if Edward interrupted. "I've known, since I was a child, that the likelihood of finding someone with gold eyes was...impossible. When I saw you I just– I panicked. I thought, if I never knew for sure, then it would always be possible."

And then Edward stepped forward, the gravel crunching under his feet, and Roy couldn't keep his eyes from opening and looking down into gold eyes, still shadowed with hurt, but also with a grim sort of sadness. "And in hospital?" he asked quietly, a hollow sort of echo to his voice. "After you got your sight back, you just left right off. I asked."

Roy shook his head, trying to ignore the way his chest ached anew at the news that Edward had asked after him. Had clearly been hurt that he'd just left without a word. "You never came back," he pointed out, and Edward looked away, eyebrows drawn tight. "I didn't have any particular interest in being able to see you walk away."

"I had to focus on Al," Edward muttered, tone slightly defensive. And then he looked back up at Roy, mouth twisted with a scowl. "Anyway! I didn't even fucking realise you'd got your sight back until you'd already left! I mean, you were fucking _blind_ , and I _know_ you hated dealing with me when you could fucking see me, so I just assu–" He clamped his mouth shut on the end of that word, expression twisting into something a bit more self-deprecating than angry at Roy. "Fuck," he muttered, before turning away. "I can't fucking deal with you right now." Then he stalked toward where everyone else was still watching, calling, "Get me away from that bastard before I fucking punch him again."

Riza handled the carloads with her usual easy efficiency, and Roy wasn't even a little surprised to find himself in the second car with Havoc, one of the two Xingan guards, and the older Xingan woman.

"So," Havoc said after about ten minutes of tense silence, "soulmates with the boss."

"I promise you, Lieutenant Colonel, that your rank will in no way protect you from the most unpleasant job I can find for you once we return to Central," Roy returned flatly.

Havoc coughed. "Good talk, Chief," he said, and they made the rest of the drive to the nearest train station in silence, giving Roy more than enough time to try and figure out how to ease things with Edward, and maybe finally get the chance he'd avoided reaching for for so long, he'd very nearly lost it entirely.

-0-

Al and May had, kindly, kept their thoughts to themselves, and Hawkeye hadn't asked about the altercation, only about their stay in Xing, which Ed left for his brother to cover.

At the station, they all piled out and everyone helped the older woman from May's clan, Xiang, in collecting and transporting their belongings. When she tried to insist it was her duty, Al gently interrupted, "Auntie, we're in Amestris, now; let us help."

(Because they'd had to sit all the Xingans down on the boat and have a long conversation about cultural differences, including that it was actually considered a bit rude to expect older generations to play servant to the whims of the young. Which wasn't to say that Xiang – who was almost fifty, but had been plenty strong enough to carry May on her wedding day – couldn't handle taking care of May, or would be expected to leave her care to others, only that everyone was going to be expected to carry their own weight. Which was a large part of the reason Ed and Al had agreed, before leaving Xing, on a strict 'no more than two bags each' rule for the trip. The rest of the reason, of course, being that fewer material possessions meant less chance of them losing something, and that it was simply easier to travel light. May had agreed almost immediately, and Ed suspected she'd just been happy for a reason to leave behind some of the more ridiculous or embarrassing things her clan had included in her dowry.)

Xiang's shoulders slouched a bit at Al's gentle reminder, and Ed flashed her a cheerful smile as he leant around his brother and took the bag she was holding from her. "You'll get used to it. Eventually," he promised, and Al sighed.

Xiang huffed at him, before allowing a small, slightly helpless smile. "Eventually," she agreed, and dropped the next bag into Al's waiting arms.

Once they'd all got settled onto the train, Ed made the excuse of needing to use the on-board toilet, did so, then snuck into the next car up and found an empty bench to take there.

He turned to stare out the windows, vaguely relieved to finally catch a moment by himself for the first time in...a while. Since the assassination attempt five months before the wedding, probably. It hadn't been the first one, but it had very nearly resulted in his death, and Lan Fan had got Ling and Al on her side, so Ed had ended up being followed around by a guard _everywhere_ , inside the palace and in the city. And, of course, on the boat and the trip through Aerugo, it had been nearly impossible to find more privacy than was necessary for relieving himself.

He sighed and turned his thoughts to an equally depressing topic: Mustang.

He'd promised both Ling and Al that he'd _try_ with his bastard of a soulmate, but that had been so much easier to agree to when he hadn't seen the man's face in years. Everything about him – his cocky smirk, the faint hint of mocking in his voice every time he spoke to Ed, the fact that he'd _lied_ to him for _years_ – really fucking pissed Ed off.

He didn't want to make nice with the stupid bastard. He much preferred just punching his face a few more times, until his chest didn't clench with some emotion he didn't care to try defining every time he looked at it.

The door between train cars clicked open, and Ed held as still as possible; both of their guards – Jie, one of Ling's cousins from the Yao clan, and Tengfei, one of May's childhood playmates from the Chang clan – were still colour-blind, and Ed knew his hair was close enough in shade to the train benches and walls, that they'd very likely overlook him at a quick glance.

Except the footsteps that sounded against the floor of the train, when the new arrival moved further into the car, weren't the familiar soft tread of the Xingan guards, but the barely remembered stomp of Amestrisan military boots.

Ed scowled as he turned to face the aisle, and couldn't say he was particularly surprised to find Mustang coming to a stop at the end of his bench, his expression carefully blanked and the blue of his uniform mostly hidden by his stupid black coat. "Fuck off," Ed snapped, before looking toward the window again.

Mustang was still for a long moment, before he stepped into Ed's space and settled into the bench across from him. "I'm just sitting," the bastard said tiredly, looking out the window himself.

"Sit somewhere else!"

Mustang very obviously ignored him, and Ed crossed his arms over his chest and glared out at the passing countryside.

Mustang was silent and still for long enough that Ed had actually started to relax a bit, before he leant forward and held out his hand – bare of any gloves, just as it had been when he'd grabbed Ed's hand earlier, he couldn't help but note – saying, "Hi. I'm Roy."

Ed shot him his best 'you're fucking insane' look and, keeping his voice flat, said, "What the fuck is this?"

"An introduction," Mustang replied, his voice neither mocking, nor smug. It also wasn't that quiet, pathetic tone he'd used earlier, the one that had made Ed want to throw up at the utter _wrongness_ of it. He actually just sounded...plain. Like a normal person, for once.

Ed frowned down at his hand, felt stupid when it occurred he was waiting to see if it had teeth or something, and finally reached out to take the bastard's hand. "Ed," he muttered, trying not to feel embarrassed at how weird this felt, shaking Mustang's hands like they were fucking _strangers_ or something.

Ed yanked his hand away as soon as he could, curling back into his seat and glaring at the seat back over Mustang's shoulder, unable to quite look at the bastard, but not entirely certain he trusted him not to do something else weird.

Mustang's next move was, of course, to lean over slightly, until Ed caught his eyes involuntarily. Mustang smiled at him, then, not quite as stupidly charming as Ed'd seen him use on women all the time when he'd been a kid, but far closer to that than the half-mocking, half-teeth bared smiles Ed was far more familiar with being directed his way. "Your eyes are the most stunning colour I've ever seen," Mustang commented.

Ed felt a little like his face had just caught on fire. "What the _fuck_?!" he snarled.

"Language," Mustang murmured, raising an eyebrow at him. "There are probably children on the train."

"Like I give a flying fuck what some stupid fucking kid hears me saying!" Ed hissed back.

Mustang sighed and shook his head, a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "How did you ever manage a treaty with the Xingans?"

"I didn't look at Ling," Ed deadpanned, even though that wasn't _quite_ true. He'd actually taken to looking at Ling – or Lan Fan, if he happened to know where she was hiding – and rolling his eyes or putting on a 'help me' expression when one of the ministers was being more of a moron than usual. Ling would actually intervene about half the time, and it was always entertaining watching either of them trying not to react to the disrespect. (That Ed had only been caught twice, in three years, was something of a miracle. Either he was a lot better at subtlety than he knew – which he would _never_ suggest to anyone, because he knew they'd laugh – or the ministers were all morons who were too caught up in their own self-importance to be aware of when someone was making fun of them not twenty feet away.)

Mustang's brow furrowed slightly and he tilted his head to one side. "Ling Yao? He was in the meetings?"

Ed blinked at him, thrown. Mustang didn't–?

No, he realised, of course the man didn't know Ling had become emperor. Ed and (he suspected) Al, had politely obeyed the Xingan custom of never using the emperor's given name, even in written communication. Ed had used it a few times in private – to Ling, because he knew he'd let him get away with it, or to Al, when he didn't have the patience for using titles or dragon symbolism to refer to the idiot emperor – but he knew enough about the consequences of breaking a taboo, to hold to that one.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. "Ling's the emperor," he offered.

Mustang blinked and straightened. "Ah. That's good to hear, for him."

Ed shrugged again, because sitting across from his own soulmate made it extremely difficult to forget what Ling had given up for the sake of his country. "I guess," he agreed, a little too quiet. When Mustang frowned, clearly confused, Ed shook his head and grabbed for the first topic he could think of: "It's kind of taboo, in Xing, I mean, to use the emperor's given name, for everyone. And I know we're not _in_ Xing, but the Xingans– Well, May won't care as much, because she's used to me, or maybe it's only _when_ it's me, but–"

"Avoid actually referring to Xing's current emperor by name?" Mustang finished for him.

Ed cleared his throat. "Yes." And then it finally hit him, what Mustang had been doing with the whole complimenting his eyes nonsense: "Wait, were you trying to fucking charm your way into my good graces or some bullshit, you bastard?"

Mustang let out a laugh that maybe sounded a little startled? Not mocking, at least, which was the only thing that kept Ed from giving in to the urge to punch him. And then Mustang gave him some sort of weird smile that made Ed's face feel warm and said, "I'm glad."

"About _what_?" Ed snarled, irritated because he didn't really get what was going on.

"That you haven't changed."

Ed's breath sort of froze in his lungs for a moment, before he managed to force it out in a gasp that sounded worryingly close to a startled noise. But Ed couldn't...really...focus on that, because, _what_? Mustang was _glad_ he was insulting him? Or– Or was that a comment on his difficulty in picking up on social cues? Because he fucking _knew about that_ , okay? And it actually wasn't that fucking funny–

Fingers brushed back along his cheek, the skin-on-skin impossibly more intimate than Ed was prepared for, and his face felt like it was on fire again as he met Mustang's gaze.

"Almost six years," Mustang said quietly, his palm feeling like a brand against Ed's too-hot cheek. "When I heard you were in Xing, I was afraid you'd never come back, that I'd never get the chance to see you again. You were the only colour I had for almost thirty years, Edward, and when I was finally able to see the rest of them, I'd already lost you; I'm sorry."

There was something caught in Ed's throat, making it difficult to draw a proper breath, and impossible to manage more than a whispered, "What?"

"I know I don't deserve it, but is there any way I can talk you into giving me a second chance?"

Maybe it was only because he'd seen it so many times in Ling's eyes – so similar to Mustang's, Ed wouldn't be surprised to discover they shared a common ancestor – but Ed recognised the regret in Mustang's eyes, tired and too close to eternal. Almost as though Mustang, like Ling, knew he was looking at living the rest of his life alone, even though fate had been kind enough to set his soulmate right next to him.

Ed had been assuming Mustang just hadn't wanted anything to do with him, but that...wasn't the case, was it? Like with Ling, fate had given him a soulmate that he could reach out and touch at any moment, but their culture said was out of his reach.

Except, where time had just strengthened the barrier between Ling and Lan Fan, it had completely demolished the one between Ed and Mustang; the only thing keeping them apart, now, was Ed himself.

"You're an idiot," Ed whispered, honestly couldn't say which of them he was saying it to, before pushing past Mustang's hand on his cheek and aiming for a kiss.

It was clumsy, and way off-centre, but Mustang stopped playing statue just before Ed could pull away, and there were suddenly hands cupping his face, gently nudging him into place, while warm lips shifted against his, softened.

And then something rather like electricity arced between them, sparking through Ed and settling into that little empty hole in his being that had become all too familiar since the Promised Day.

Ed jerked himself backward, away from Mustang, with a gasp, turning wide eyes on his hands. That was– That felt–

The warm little flame in that empty hole flickered for a moment, as though uncertain it should be there, before Mustang called, "Edward?" some emotion in his voice that Ed didn't have the attention to spare toward defining, especially since the flame strengthened in response.

Swallowing and feeling a little like an idiot – because he'd lived with this loss for almost six years, now, and nothing ever changed – Ed pressed his palms together. There was nothing for a moment that seemed to go on for an eternity, and then–

Bright blue light sparked around his hands.

" _Alchemy_ ," Mustang breathed.

Ed looked up at him and caught his eyes. Eyes that had always been so black – so cold and uncaring, endless pits that lacked any sign of a soul – were lit with the blue of the transmutation, and they _glowed_ with life, with joy and victory and everything that was starting to bloom in Ed's own chest.

 _He could do alchemy again_.

He pulled his hands apart as it occurred to him that _this shouldn't be possible_. He'd given up his Gate for Al; there was no getting that back.

 _ **AL**_.

He jumped to his feet and raced back to their original car, slamming through the safety door and almost tripping as he jumped the minor gap between the cars, catching himself on the door of the other car and shoving it open almost before he had his feet under him, bursting into the car and–

"Brother?" Al called as he jumped to his feet, his expression twisted with worry.

"Oh," Ed breathed, "Al. Thank fuck."

And then his right knee just sort of...gave out on him.

Arms caught him from behind, pulling him back against a warm chest, and Ed closed his eyes and relaxed back into Mustang's hold, so unspeakably relieved that Truth hadn't gone back on their trade.

"What happened?" Al demanded, an icy edge to his voice that meant he was seriously considering reminding everyone there that his normal politeness didn't mean he couldn't take all of them out in less than a minute.

"I'm...not altogether certain," Mustang admitted.

Ed opened his eyes and brought his hands up to frown at. If Al was still there, then how could he do alchemy? He didn't have a fucking Gate to determine the equivalence.

Well, actually, he didn't actually know he _could_ do alchemy. Gathering sufficient latent energy for a transmutation was far more than he'd been able to do, certainly, but that was hardly the same thing as actively completing a transmutation.

" _Edward_ ," Al called, very likely not the first time he'd tried to get Ed's attention.

"I need to test something," Ed muttered, shoving his sleeve out of the way so he could get out one of the throwing knives he kept on his person.

Al let out an irritated noise, while Mustang just sighed against Ed's hair, tickling against the top of his scalp.

There wasn't a lot he could do to the knife that wouldn't get in the way of its use. However, if this worked, he could easily change it back, and if it _didn't_ work, it wouldn't matter. So, he closed his eyes to envision what he wanted, then opened them again and pressed his hands together, knife held easily between them.

There was, again, that brief-yet-endless moment where nothing happened, and then the energy sparked – Al let out a startled yelp and stumbled backward – and the knife began to change shape.

At Ed's back, Mustang had gone tense, his arms tightening around Ed's chest just enough to be noticeable.

As the energy died off, spent, Mustang relaxed again and let out what Ed only knew was a shaky breath because it was into his hair.

Ed pulled away and turned to face the bastard, the metal crane in his hand forgotten. "I'm using–"

"My Gate," Mustang finished for him.

Ed recalled, a bit distantly, that one of the statistics he'd found as a child said that alchemists – or those with the potential for alchemy – were always soulmates of others with the potential. _Always_.

When Al and he had performed human transmutation, Ed had hypothesised that their souls had crossed somehow, and been proven correct when his and Al's Gates had been directly opposite each other on that other plane of existence and visible to each other. Ed had even used Al's Gate to get back to their plane, so it was clearly possible to use another person's Gate. Therefore, matching a non-alchemist with an alchemist would give that non-alchemist the ability to use alchemy, assuming such was possible without the knowledge of that other plane that both Ed and Mustang possessed; whatever _other_ – Truth or fate or what-have-you – that decided on the matches between humans would be far smarter to just avoid having that mix-up occur altogether, by only pairing alchemists with other alchemists.

Which, actually, if completing a soulmate bond, or whatever, allowed him – without his Gate – to access _Mustang's_ Gate, what would that have meant for them when his and Al's souls were still twisted together on the other side? (Assuming they weren't still. Ed assumed not, since he'd never been able to sense or access Al's Gate after bringing them home; more likely, their souls had got uncrossed in transit somewhere.) Would the soulmate bond have even _worked_? Would it have been sort of like Al and Ed were soulmates – just without being able to see colours – at least until their souls uncrossed? Or would there have been _three_ Gates all clustered together: his, Al's, and Mustang's?

Had Mustang inadvertently saved himself a great deal of stress by deciding not to touch Ed for all those years?

"That," Mustang commented quietly, recapturing Ed's meandering attention, "was rather disconcerting."

The bottom dropped out of Ed's stomach, derailing his thoughts with the reminder that Mustang could sense when Ed used his Gate. 'Disconcerting', he called it. Was that Mustang-talk for 'painful'? Was he _hurting_ the bastard when he used his Gate?

"I–I'm sorry," he managed, feeling nauseous. "I wo–"

Mustang covered his mouth with one hand. "Edward," he whispered as Ed looked up and caught his eyes, found them so completely opposite from the uncaring pits he'd always thought of them as, "please. It's _yours_."

Ed felt his face get way too warm again, but he couldn't bring himself to care any more, because Mustang–

Mustang _knew_. He'd paid his toll to the Gate, too. He knew that loss, and he knew how it felt to suddenly get it back. To be able to see...to use alchemy again...

They were the same.

Ed pulled Mustang's hand out of the way, then leant up to kiss him. And the bastard caught a hand around his waist and pulled him in close, felt as warm and comfortable as the curl of flame that had eased the empty space where his Gate had once been.

And then, out of nowhere, Ed felt himself pushed even closer to the bastard by someone behind him, and turned to scowl at Al over his shoulder.

Al just flashed him a wide, bright smile, and whispered, "Congratulations," before letting go and stepping back far enough that Ed could see Hawkeye and Havoc and May and the other three Xingans and fucking _all the other people in that car_ watching them, most of them smiling.

Ed moaned and turned to hide his face against Mustang's stupid black coat, then hit the bastard when he started laughing.

-0-

There are two framed photographs sitting on the dresser, now.

One was taken shortly after the now-Führer Roy Elric-Mustang and late Brigadier General Maes Hughes had been promoted to lieutenant colonel and major, respectively, for their efforts during the Ishval Civil War. Roy has his best serious face on, but Maes is wearing a bright grin.

The other was taken shortly before Ambassadors Edward Mustang-Elric and Alphonse Elric left for Xing, the trip which has paved the way for peace treaties signed with Xing and Aerugo, and trade agreements with both those countries, as well as half a dozen along the Meradian Sea. Both brothers are grinning, arms around each other's shoulders.

Between the photos sits a stack of coins – a single five hundred piece and two tens – and a black Xingan-style dragon that looks red from the right angle, and is holding what looks like a flame between outstretched claws. Almost as though it's offering to share.

-OWARI-

.


End file.
